


Zero Day

by theragingstorm



Series: New Earth-1 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Canon Disabled Character, Drama, Dramedy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Honeymoon, Humor, Intrigue, Light Angst, Love, Marriage, Multi, Mystery, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Secret Relationship, Sequel, mostly - Freeform, of sorts, they’ve finally gotten their shit together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-05-18 22:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm
Summary: After a year of interpersonal drama, struggling to get better, and chasing villains, the Bats — especially Dick and Barbara — are ready for a break. And one finally seems to have come: two quiet weeks relaxing in the Caribbean for the newlyweds, and two quiet weeks at home for the rest of the family.But of course, it’s not going to be that easy.Thousands of miles apart, the two groups will have to face off against reporters, jilted exes, diapers, sunburn, rich people, selfish agendas, and their own pasts. Finally united, they must face outside forces the way they always should have — together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I promised: a sequel to Roots! Which if you haven’t read already, there are some spoilers here, as well as some things that might require context, so feel free to ask. 
> 
> The nature of the sexual content should vary by circumstance, sometimes it’ll be rougher or kinkier, and sometimes it’ll be softer and gentler. If you need me to note what nature it’ll be each chapter, please say so. Otherwise, have fun with it.
> 
> Much of this story is actually, in a lot of ways, for fun, and different in tone and content than its predecessor. And I hope that you all enjoy it along with me.

**Zero Day (adj.):** deriving from or relating to a previously unknown vulnerability to attack in some software.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The heady weight of a late June night hung low over Gotham City. Fog filled the sky, city lights piercing through the gloom and the crooked tangle of stone and steel like cats’ eyes in the dark. Millions breathed and moved through the shadows.

But the light of the Bat-Signal remained switched off that night. For once, there was no need for it.

At the same time, resting in the middle of downtown like a diamond in a swamp, was a grand hotel. As it would only be used for a single night, its name did not linger in the minds of two specific guests; neither did its luxury. They were not even thinking of the hotel they would use consistently in coming days.

The setting didn’t matter. What mattered was that after twelve years of knowing each other, after all that chasing, they had caught each other at last.

 

* * *

 

Barbara couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much for so long; her cheeks hurt and her eyes were scrunched behind her glasses. Her hair had been tied up for the entirety of the afternoon and night, while her glasses kept slipping down her nose; her white dress, though beautiful, was slim-fitting silk and hardly the most comfortable thing she’d ever worn.

But she still giggled like a hyperactive schoolgirl as she wheeled the last feet down the hallway, the man at her side smiling fit to burst.

“You know, I think that clerk was expecting Bruce himself to show up, since it was his credit card and name on the reservation,” Dick finally remarked.

“I think he was more disappointed by the fact that when Gotham’s former second-most eligible bachelor did turn up, it was with a woman in a wedding dress,” she returned, covering her smile with her hand. “Especially because none of the general public know we’re married.”

“Well, luckily for him, I plan for that to be a one-time occasion.”

Walking beside her in his tux, hair carefully styled and his bowtie almost casually knotted, she couldn’t help but meet his gaze. While at the same time, he certainly never took his eyes off her.

They reached the door. She produced the keycard from her clutch, the door clicking open before her —

— Then Dick knelt, slipping his hands under her back and thighs and lifting her. She yelped in surprise, before quickly recovering and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You’ve been waiting the whole reception to do that, haven’t you?”

“Ehh.”

“Well don’t you dare forget my chair outside.”

“Barbara.” He cocked his eyebrow at her, his smile temporarily replaced by a crooked smirk. Her chest fluttered. “If I were going to inconvenience you, which I am not, I would have to be a real fool to do it on our wedding night.”

She threw her head back, not belying how her heart was starting to pound.

“Carry on then.”

He hooked his foot around one of the front wheels and nudged it through, before carrying her over into the hotel room. The door clicked shut behind them, sounding like a promise.

Bruce had promised them that he had had their reservation marked down as a “romantic” stay, and the hotel had apparently taken him at his word. For starters, the dim room was huge, far more suited to a week-long visit than a night-long one. Two fat candles burned on the nightstands, filling the air with a subtle hint of cinnamon. The enormous bed, covered in fine white sheets, had actually been strewn with rose petals. A little trolley sat beside the bed, covered by a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne in ice.

“Unbelievable,” she breathed. “And here I was trusting him when he promised they wouldn’t go overboard.”

“I can’t believe you’re protesting free food.”

“ _I_ can’t believe you’re hungry only four hours after dinner.”

“Hey, just a couple months ago I was feeding _you_ all the time.”

“I was pregnant! What’s your excuse?”

“None really, but I also never see a reason to turn down chocolate. Especially when I work out pretty much all the time.”

“Well _that_ I’m not going to protest.” One hand reached down to pat his toned chest through his shirt.

He shot her a smug grin, then as they reached the edge of the bed his expression and movements became slower, softer. She was placed on the bed ever so gently, with just enough time to take off her glasses and let down her hair, before he clambered on next to her, loosening his bowtie and shucking off his tux jacket.

“However...I can still wait a while for that chocolate if you want.”

Barbara couldn’t help but smirk.

Then she slowly turned around, half-reclining, balancing her weight on one arm and presenting her back to him.

“Glad to hear it. Unzip me.”

It was a slow few moments before she felt his warm hands moving between her shoulder blades, his breath on her neck.

“You wanna do this now?” he murmured.

One hand kept slowly pulling down her dress’s zipper. The other moved up over onto her left shoulder, gliding through her hair.

“Dick, between us we work four jobs; we regularly lead and wrangle dozens of people, including our two-month-old child. We barely have any spare time.” She leaned back into his touch, feeling her muscles relax even as her heart began to beat swiftly again. “So for the next two weeks...I want as much of you as I can get.”

The front half of the dress pooled around her waist. Slowly, she reached up to take his hands, and bring them to her breasts. He let out a sharp breath, the warmth of it curling against her skin.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

He quickly unclipped her strapless bra, then carefully pulled the rest of her dress down her legs, sweeping it off the bed and to the floor. His hands found her breasts again, caressing, and she felt arousal flush between her legs.

She folded herself against him, tilting her head back, letting out sharp gasps of pleasure as he rolled her nipples between his fingers, occasionally pinching a bit. Humming with satisfaction, he kissed at her neck, his lips warm against the delicate skin.

For a few minutes, she soaked in his attentions, feeling heat build in her belly and a pulse rush to her cunt, her clit. Then one of his hands skimmed down, abruptly coming to a halt over her stomach. Over the scars and stretch marks.

For a moment, she felt self-conscious.

“What are you doing?”

“Lie down. I want to be able to see you better.”

She did, listening to the buttons on his shirt and pants snap open before he threw his clothes aside and lay parallel to her; the flushed head of his growing erection sliding against the small of her back, just where physical movement ended. His hand drifted back down, stroking fingers temporarily lingering over her bullet scar, then her C-section scar.

She tensed slightly at that. He sighed, and she froze.

“So beautiful,” was what he said, pressing another kiss to her shoulder.

The tension immediately melted; more heat pooled between her legs. She let out a sigh of her own in response.

Then his fingers slipped farther down. The leg lying on top was gently pushed aside; his fingers teasing open the slick apex of her thighs.

Barbara groaned as his thumb began to stroke her clit.

“More.”

The pressure increased, moving in firm circles; two more fingers slid down to her entrance, playing with her lips until she was almost panting but still not slipping in.

“Richard — ooh — don’t you dare tease me.”

“Who’s teasing?” He kissed her shoulder. “I’m savoring.”

“Well, savor with your fingers _inside_ me sooner rather than later.”

“Make me,” he retorted. She could practically feel his grin against her neck.

She craned her head around.

“Wipe that smug look off your face and be good, and if you do, I _might_ suck you off before we go another round.”

He stilled for a moment.

“Okay, I’m being good now, I promise.”

She smirked.

“Prove it.”

Immediately after she said it, he slipped a finger in, curling it in exactly the way he knew she liked. They both groaned in unison.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

She arched backwards as he continued his ministrations, pressing up against his crotch.

“Are you hard already?”

“Can’t help it, love.” The second finger joined the first, and she whined with pleasure. “You feel incredible.”

His thumb changed strokes, the fingers pressing down on a sweet, sensitive spot, she could just almost feel the wetness dripping out onto her thighs. He shifted, angling his hand better, the two of them almost rocking in sync.

“Oh honey, I know how much you’re enjoying yourself. You’re — oh! — doing a damn good job proving it — mmm, yes, so good.”

He whined under the praise. She squirmed, feeling her clit throb under his touch, feeling herself beginning to teeter on the brink as the pleasure inside her built to a crescendo.

“Just give me a little more...oh god yes!”

She came groaning and gasping, twisting around to face him as Dick withdrew his dripping hand. He met her gaze, then bent his head almost demurely to _lick_ his hand clean, mouth gaping open obscenely, those pretty lips and delicate pink tongue cleaning her off his fingers.

Even immediately post-orgasm, she felt herself begin to throb again.

“Let me look at you,” she breathed.

He moved away, smiling, just enough for her to see all of him. His black hair was soft against the white pillows, blue eyes standing apart from his skin like jewels set in bronze. His cock was fully hard and flush to his navel, dripping precum.

She moved back against him, this time facing each other. She wrapped one arm around his back and clutched his shoulder, her other hand took his, their fingers interlocking. With his free hand, he hoisted her leg over his waist and pulled her hips to his.

He pushed inside her, hard and full; warmth fanned up through her body and she savored the delicious familiarity of him.

“Oh god,” he whispered in her ear, almost reverent.

She squeezed his hand affectionately.

“Go ahead and move, honey.”

His thrusts were slow at first; she held him close, sighing.

“More.”

He picked up the pace almost abruptly and she yelped with delight.

“You like that?”

“Mmm, yes. Keep it up, _uhh_ , you’re so good, so good.”

He hummed happily. His free hand remained on her hip, caressing her as he thrust, his cock throbbing inside her, surges of pleasure radiating through her whole body.

Barbara could feel herself drawing near again. She nuzzled at his face, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his lips.

“Good boy,” she crooned between kisses, squeezing his hand, rubbing her thumb over the calloused knuckles. “So beautiful.”

He whined as he kept thrusting.

“Babs, I’m gonna...”

“Me too. Go ahead.”

Two hands clutched each other as she came with a loud cry. He groaned in response, and a second later she could feel his cum spurting inside her.

Barbara pulled off him, feeling a bit weak. Combing her fingers through her hair, she smiled as she looked at her husband.

“Still think you can handle a second round?”

Dick rolled to the side and sat up, propping himself up on his hands and tilting his head. His own smile was slow and sweet, practically shining with love.

“Give me a few minutes and sure, absolutely.”

She blew back strands of red and grabbed her discarded hair tie, pulling her long locks back and snapping the tie around them.

“I bet I can cut that time in half.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“I said what I’d do if you were good. And you were _very_ good.”

He practically glowed.

“You did say that, didn’t you?”

She pushed his knees apart, sliding back in between them while he leaned back, bracing himself. She bent forward, her nose nearly brushing the base of his flat scarred stomach, his thatch of black hair, knowing he could feel her breath on his groin.

She lowered her head and drew her tongue down his cock, tasting herself and his cum. She deliberately licked it up, humming; he immediately whined with pleasure.

“Oh god, Barbara...”

Languidly, she took the broad head of him in her mouth, caressing her tongue along his length, sucking. Slipping further down, she felt him begin to twitch to life in her mouth. As he moaned above her, she drew her tongue all the way from base to tip.

Dick’s hips thrust slightly; she wrapped her lips back around the head, noting with satisfaction that he was already half-hard again, flicking her tongue.

“You’re too good to me — oh mother _fuck_ er —”

She pulled off with a wet _pop_ and snarked,

“Look who’s talking.”

He peered down at her.

“About which part?”

“Both of them.”

He actually laughed, shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, _that’s_ why you had my kid. So you could make that joke.”

“Right you are,” she grinned, bending back down.

It wasn’t until he was fully hard, leaking precum on her tongue, that she pulled off again. Sitting up and grabbing his shoulders, she hoisted herself up onto his lap. Taking her cue, he closed his knees and folded his legs so that she was propped between his thighs and his body.

She leaned in and kissed him again. It was slow, it lingered; he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I love you, Richard Grayson. I really, really love you.”

“I love you too,” he said softly, beaming. “You have no idea how happy I am that we’re married now.”

“I think I have some idea.”

She gave him one more kiss, soft and warm. Then hoisted herself up and slowly lowered herself back onto him. He slid in with ease, aided by gravity and how slick and messy she already was with both of them.

They moved more slowly than before, her hands braced on his shoulders. He thrust into her almost gently, momentarily reaching up and releasing her hair from its tie again, letting it fall free around her back and shoulders.

She clenched around him, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Still so hard and full inside her, aching so good, his touch just as tender.

“Am I still good?”

She opened her eyes, leaning back in. Her hair fanned forward until it brushed his skin; she kissed his cheek and gave him a slightly crooked smile.

“You’re incredible.”

He sighed happily, thrusting softly once, twice more —

— she fell over the edge again, the blissful warmth spreading out through her whole body. He followed almost immediately, spending himself inside her again.

The pair of them finally collapsed, falling backwards against the pillows. She lay on top of him, resting her cheek on his chest. One hand stroked her hair.

For a few minutes, they lay like that in peaceful silence. She was drowsy and happy and full, and he radiated so much heat she didn’t have to bother pulling up the covers.

Then she realized something.

“Dick, are you eating strawberries one-handed over my head?”

A pause.

“No,” he said with his mouth full.

She rolled her eyes, though not without affection.

“Just don’t get any chocolate or strawberry juice on me.”

“Barbara...” There was a slight smirk in his voice. “I told you, even if I _were_ going to inconvenience you, I wouldn’t do it on our wedding night.” He wiped his mouth and kissed the top of her head. Her chest fluttered. “Just sleep, okay?”

Despite herself, her smile returned and she nestled in a bit closer.

“Okay. But you’d better sleep soon too. You don’t get enough rest either.”

“Yes, dear.”

She closed her eyes and slipped into a quiet darkness, undisturbed by dreams.

 

* * *

 

She woke first the next morning.

Sunlight had poured through the smog, washing downtown Gotham in a coat of dirty silver. The windows remained uncovered by the thick green-gold hotel drapes, the room flooded with metallic white light.

She pushed her hair out of her face, then groaned and stretched her arms and torso, feeling her body acutely; her heavy eyelids, her upper body muscles pulling and relaxing, the complete lack of sensation in her legs contrasting with the pleasant slight ache in her crotch.

It wasn’t until she was reaching for the phone to call room service that Barbara felt movement beside her. She paused, letting his arms wrap around her waist and his lips press to her shoulder.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.”

“You weren’t going to order breakfast without me, were you?”

“I was going to order _for_ you, you doofus.” She turned her head around to kiss him. “Ugh. Also, you need to brush your teeth.”

“I’d prefer to stay in bed all day, but we have to leave and make ourselves presentable if we’re going to say goodbye to the family and still catch our plane.”

“Them’s the breaks, huh?” Despite her complaints, she kissed him again.

“Yeah, but on the other hand, once we get there we can do whatever we want. Several times a night, even.”

“You’re going to wear your tongue out. If you’re very lucky.”

“Heh, usually when people say that that means they want me to shut up. I like your version better.”

“Well it’s not like you’ll be talking during my version either,” she said mischievously. “But really, you need to brush your teeth.”

Dick tossed his head back, and his arms tightened slightly around her waist.

“Or what?”

“You’ll be in for it.”

“Ooh, what are you gonna do?” he challenged, grinning.

She was still for a moment.

Then she spun around, breaking his grip, and grabbed one of the pillows, whacking him over the head with it.

“Oh that’s how you want to play it!”

He grabbed another pillow, and the two of them dissolved into confrontational yells, pummeling each other with the pillows and shrieking with laughter.

She knocked him flat over the bed, but he grabbed her and flipped them around so that she was on her back, digging his fingers mercilessly into her ribs. She screamed, giggling frantically.

“Dick — _ack_ — _eek_ — you underhanded son of a — _aiyeee!_ ”

“Now who’s in for it?”

Still giggling, Barbara fumbled around behind her and grabbed her discarded pillow. She swung it upwards —

— and he grabbed the other side. Both of them yanked.

“Give it back!”

“It’s mine now!”

Unfortunately, both of them had a great deal of upper body strength, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the pillow ripped in half. Dick fell backwards, sprawling across the other side of the bed, and Barbara caught a face full of tufty white feathers. As the pillow down rained merrily over the bed, both of them sat up, blinking owlishly at each other. He had feathers in his hair; she sneezed a clump off her nose.

“So...what do you want for breakfast?”

 

* * *

 

The marquee on Wayne Manor’s sprawling grounds hadn’t been taken down yet, flower petals and rice had been thoroughly trampled into the formerly well-kept lawn. Music lingered in dozens of peoples’ minds, and the wild dancing had left soreness in the feet of nearly as many. Several young children were still tired from staying up through nearly all of the reception. Bruce still had yet to berate several people for making inappropriate commentary during the toasts and loudly wolf-whistling during the garter toss, and most importantly, he had yet to ask Selina what that expression on her face had meant when she’d caught the bouquet.

At the same time, late morning at the Manor had swiftly blossomed into a chaotic hubbub, but Bruce didn’t mind. Drinking his coffee out of one of Alfred’s “World’s Greatest Grandpa” mugs, he read the morning news on his phone, his grandson resting in a sling over his chest. The wedding had gone off without a hitch — aside from the aforementioned inappropriateness — and all seemed right in the world.

The baby squirmed eagerly, taking in his surroundings, gurgling incoherently and chewing on his own fist. Bruce relished his presence, his warmth and soft weight, occasionally lifting a hand to wipe his mouth or stroke his down-soft tufts of black hair.

“Has anyone seen my ‘command gold’ Enterprise crew shirt?” Tim asked, standing in the middle of the kitchen in his Flash pajamas, navigating his coffee and cereal around Damian and Cass. Her bedhead sticking up in all directions like pine branches, Cass wore an oversized Wonder Woman t-shirt and quietly stole blueberries off Damian’s oatmeal.

“Nobody wants your geek shit, Tim,” Jason scoffed, sticking a nicotine patch on his wrist and gulping black tea.

“You know, you can insult me all you want, but geek shit is mainstream now, Jason, so _you’re_ the one out of the loop here.”

“Duke, that’s not true, is it?”

“Dude, have you _seen_ what _Game of Thrones’_ ratings are like?”

Duke, for his part, was wearing a “Han Shot First” t-shirt over his pajama pants and plucking an orange out of the fruit bowl. Damian repeatedly shoved his brothers out of the way when they got too close to upending his oatmeal bowl, still not noticing his sister’s berry theft.

“Besides,” he continued, peeling his orange, “you’re not exactly mainstream yourself, Jay. I’ve seen your Goodreads page.”

“I’m getting told for being a nerd by the guy who plays D&D and writes poetry for fun.”

“Hey, I _embrace_ being a nerd.”

“I still can’t believe Grayson and Gordon are going all the way to the Caribbean for two whole weeks,” Damian complained abruptly, changing the subject. “It’s absurd. Honeymoon or not, nobody needs to go that far for that long.”

“I disagree, Master Damian,” Alfred said, appearing at the kitchen island beside them and firmly removing Cass’s hand from her brother’s cereal bowl. “Considering how hard and how much they work, this kind of vacation was long overdue for Master Richard and Miss Barbara. Almost as overdue as yesterday’s wedding.”

Bruce grunted slightly, privately agreeing. His pride in his son and his daughter-in-law (god, it seemed too good to finally be real. He had a daughter-in-law! She was his daughter-in-law!) was endless, but he did think that they needed to rest. Any possibility of his own need to rest was completely irrelevant.

“Well, that’s understandable,” Damian acknowledged. “But I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just give them one of the rooms here for two weeks. They could rest plenty, and we’d still see them.”

“Because —”

“Because the rooms here aren’t soundproof,” Jason interrupted loudly. “And some of us like to sleep occasionally instead of having to listen to moaning and thumping and —” He did a surprisingly good imitation of Barbara’s voice: “— ‘oh, Dick, gimme your dick!’”

“That’s _quite_ enough of that,” Bruce said sharply while Duke and Cass laughed (embarrassedly in his case, less so in hers), Tim shot his brother a what’s-wrong-with-you look, and Damian looked revolted. “Jason, don’t be crude. Damian, I know you’re going to miss your brother, but this is his honeymoon, and he should be able to have a break.”

“Yes,” Cass spoke up, still smiling, “let him enjoy his...sex vacation.”

Bruce stared at his daughter in horror. She shrugged.

“ _Sex vacation?_ ”

“What?” she said innocently. “Everyone is...calling it that. Even Tim.”

“Leave me out of this, you weirdos,” Tim protested from behind his coffee mug.

“Ughhhh,” Damian groaned in revulsion. “On second thought, I’ll be happy to see the back of them.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see the back of each other too. And the front.”

Cass began giggling again.

“And the underside. And the inside —”

“Master Jason!” Alfred snapped, and much to Bruce’s relief, his son finally shut up.

Just before the doorbell rang. Right on cue.

Abandoning their breakfasts, but grabbing along their mugs of coffee and tea, the entire rest of the family made their way to the foyer, eager to greet the newlyweds. The dogs shot up from where they’d been lurking under the table for scraps and ran to the door, barking, and even the cat twined curiously around Damian’s ankles, peering out.

After taking a moment to adjust himself, Alfred opened the door, and Bruce took in his first child and first child-in-law.

His son appeared to shine, hair tousled carelessly, eyes crinkled happily the same way they’d done since he was a little boy. Wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, he seemed to bounce in place, rocking from his heels to the balls of his feet, unable to contain his joy.

Beside him, his bride was stiller, more composed, but her smile was just as full of love. Her red hair was pulled back with a headband, and she wore a white tank top over a long, loose yellow skirt. She gazed at the rest of the family with a kind of knowing pride.

Bruce couldn’t help but feel happy to see them like that after all those years, side by side, wearing the gold bands on their fingers that had once belonged to his own parents, that he had been proud to bestow upon his son and the woman who was like his daughter.

What he said though was:

“Hmmm.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards just a bit. “I think this belongs to you.”

He indicated the infant slung over his chest, who had begun squirming and gurgling excitedly upon seeing his parents again.

Dick reached over, plucking his son from the baby sling and cradling him to his own chest, crooning endearments.

“Hi. Yeah, I know, you missed us during the wedding yesterday, huh?”

“How could he have missed you?” Tim stood on his tiptoes to peek over Duke’s shoulder. “You were at the center of everything, it was hard to miss you.”

“Especially making goo-goo eyes at each other the way you were,” Jason agreed.

“Like you can talk, Jay,” Dick said loftily, not appearing to notice that the baby was drooling on his shirt. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at Roy and blushed when you caught the garter.”

“You aimed it at me on purpose, you prick!”

“I will neither admit to nor deny that.” Dick’s eyes twinkled.

Bruce, for his part, strongly suspected that Jason was right — and that, judging by the way Barbara was smirking, that she had aimed the bouquet at Selina on purpose too — but decided not to say anything.

“I liked the wedding,” was Cass’s opinion. “It was very sweet. Good job.”

Barbara’s smirk turned into a genuine smile again as she looked at Cass.

“Thanks, Cassie, I liked it too.”

“Me too.”

“Kiss ass,” Jason grumbled. Cass shot him an absolutely angelic smile, walking at Barbara’s side.

“The wedding did...go well,” Bruce said gruffly, as they made their way through the foyer. His eldest son looked up at him. “Not a thing went wrong. Unless you count those terrible puns in Wally’s best man toast.”

“I _liked_ the terrible puns.” Dick smiled a little more. “You can’t complain about Donna’s best woman toast, though.”

“Hmm.”

“Not even going to mention Dinah’s maid of honor toast?” Barbara called.

“Hrrnnn.”

Everyone else laughed at his pained expression as he recalled Dinah’s jokes and innuendoes and the truly horrified look on Jim Gordon’s face at the implications she’d made around the halfway mark. A universally valued member of the superhero community, a true ride-or-die for her loved ones, but that woman was also more than a little prurient.

“Indeed, Miss Dinah could have spared us a few details,” Alfred said dryly. “But otherwise, I agree that the wedding was quite lovely. You two must be very happy.”

They looked at each other, their expressions shining with every bit of love they must’ve felt. Again, Bruce felt pride swell in his chest for the two of them, for their happiness, for the fine parents he had for his grandson.

“Dinah was lying halfway through her speech, right? Or at least exaggerating?”

They looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Tim looked horrified.

“Why would you even ask that?”

 

* * *

 

Dick knew that as soon as they started nearing the three-hour mark before their plane left, his wife would start itching to keep to her schedule — i.e. that she would start hurrying everything along so as not to be late.

So he got ahead of the others, sitting down on the couch and settling in to watch the fun. Their baby made soft snuffling noises, patting his hands against Dick’s shirt.

“When is Stephanie getting here?” Barbara asked.

“She said she’d be here after her class this afternoon.”

“Alright.” She pulled off her headband and drew her hair to the side, combing her fingers through it. Spare coppery strands caught the late-morning light. “So when she shows up, one of you can show her the instructions.”

“Sounds about — wait, instructions?”

Dick stifled a laugh at their dawning expressions.

“Yes. Instructions. None of you, except Alfred obviously, have raised infants before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been babysitting for you for the last two months.”

“For couple-hour increments, and in one case, for a single night. But not for two weeks straight.” Businesslike, Barbara drew her laminated papers out of her purse, handing them off first to Bruce. “These are the essentials.”

Bruce stared. Jason snatched up the papers and flipped through them.

“This is six pages long...” He then realized. “Fucking _double-sided!?_ ”

Damian stared back and forth between the couple in outrage.

“How stupid do you think I am, woman? I mean, I understand that the _others_ would need such an extensive list —”

The older boys scowled at him. Barbara cut him off, tapping her finger against the top of the instructions.

“As you can see, I divided it into several subsections. Most of it you might be able to make small mistakes with every now and then —” Her words were belied by a sharp glare, “— but I highlighted the important parts; the ones that, if you screw them up and hurt my child, I will stick you in canvas sacks, paint big red targets on what used to be your faces, and sell you online as training dummies.”

The others all either stared in horror or grimaced.

“She can’t really do that, can she?” Duke murmured to no one in particular. Nobody answered him.

Dick decided to speak up.

“Point being, guys, it’s just best if you follow the instructions.” He rocked his arms, John snuffled contentedly. “Also, you might want to check the big fridge in the second kitchen that Alfred never uses, we’ve been stockpiling it over the last few weeks.”

“Oh,” Cass said. “That’s what the...suspicious coolers were for.”

“What? For what? Stockpiling it with what —?” Tim glanced down at the papers, right at the “feeding” subsection. “Oh. Ew.”

“It’s no more ‘ew’ than the milk you put on your cereal.”

“The milk I put on my cereal didn’t come out of my sister-in-law.”

Bruce cleared his throat loudly.

“Barbara, Dick, I don’t think this was necessary. We don’t need such specific guidelines.”

“Yeah, I mean, we’re just watching him for a couple weeks,” said Duke, though he still looked more than a little shaken up. “It’s not that long.”

“Obviously, but —”

“But he’s still our baby,” Dick finished, peering down into the crook of his arms. John gazed up at him with his soft gray-blue eyes, gumming on his own fingers. “We’re gonna miss him, and it’s gonna feel like so long. So much could happen between now and when we see him again.”

“Calm down there, Odysseus,” Jason groaned. “What the hell do you think’s gonna happen in two weeks? The kid’s right, it’s not like you’re not leaving for twenty years.”

Barbara’s eyebrows shot up a bit.

“Doesn’t really make the Odysseus comparison very accurate then.”

“On top of that _he_ didn’t bring _his_ wife,” Damian pointed out.

“He probably would’ve come home way sooner than twenty years if he’d brought his wife.”

“And probably wouldn’t have gone sleeping with nymphs and princesses and sorceresses and whatnot.” Dick raised his right hand. “In case you’re worried, I swear to you all now, I will not sleep with any nymphs or princesses or sorceresses.”

“Kinda keeping the bar low there, Former Boy Wonder.” She turned her stern look to him for a moment, but he was pleased to see that the glimmer had returned to her eyes.

“I don’t think you have to worry,” Jason smirked. He glanced at his brother. “First of all, it’ll be okay Barbie, we’ll take care of your kid. Second of all, considering that your kid exists in the first place, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one Dickie here wants to live out his teenage fantasies with, of both the life-partner and the sexual variety.”

Dick turned and faced Jason.

“Yeah, you know, I would’ve put that more romantically.”

Blushing slightly, but still squaring her shoulders, Barbara tossed her hair back and slid her headband back on.

“Just take care of my son.”

“That we shall, Miss Barbara,” Alfred said solemnly, reaching down and taking the baby from his father’s arms. Dick reluctantly surrendered him, reaching out with one hand and letting John clasp his finger one last time. “Need I remind you that this is your family too now.”

She glanced over, making eye contact with Dick again.

“You don’t have to remind me, actually.”

 

* * *

 

The flight from Gotham to San José was a long, but uneventful, seven-and-a-half hours. First class, compliments of Bruce’s money. Dick didn’t worry much during, just tilted his comfortable seat back, watched sitcoms, and occasionally snuck glances at his wife; glasses slipping down her nose while she remained thoroughly engrossed in Margaret Atwood (which he hoped wasn’t meant to be a commentary on their marriage.)

Part of him was almost giddy with joy. The other half wondered if maybe this was a cruel joke, a hallucination brought on by the Mad Hatter or a cluster of Black Mercy, and soon he was going to wake up with the entirety of the last year having not happened. It couldn’t possibly be real, that half said, that she would want to love him again, to marry him, to have their child. Who was he, to get that kind of second chance?

But it was real.

He reached over and rested his hand on top of hers, his wedding ring winking in the window’s light. She still didn’t look up from her book, but she turned her hand upside down and took his, their fingers intertwining.

The rest of the plane ride passed in a blur.

Night had already touched the cityscape, hot as breath, the vivid lights of San José blinking in time with the faint sound of reggaeton from the local joints, flower bushes and palm trees bending along the sidewalks. The clerk at the rental car place was surprisingly jovial, despite it being ten at night, handing over the keys to the BMW convertible with a smile and a _“Tener una buena noche, mis amigos americanos.”_

“Dick, next time you want to thank the locals, maybe don’t mangle the pronunciation of your ‘thank you.’”

“Hey, my pronunciation was just fine.”

“For a third-grader _starting_ Spanish, maybe.”

“What, should I let you do all the talking?”

“Ideally, yes.”

The two-hour drive from San José was not as quiet as the flight. The car wasn’t pedal-free, so as Dick drove, he played Latin pop songs on the radio the whole way.

Barbara didn’t seem to mind, though. She started reading a different book, not reacting to the music, making quite a picture: still lovely even tired and sticky from the long flight, her long hair tangling in the tailwind as a Costa Rican man sang the praises of a beautiful woman.

All continued to feel just right.

At least until the hotel.

 

* * *

 

The town of Puerto Viejo de Talamanca was a bit of a surprise after living in big cities for her whole life. Barbara had envisioned a quaint little place, and in many ways it was, with its roadside stands, dirt roads outside of downtown, and small buildings, but the lights were on late just as much as they had been in San José. Women queued at a nightclub, a cluster of men sat on the sidewalk and played noisy guitars, overriding the radio. Though it was past midnight, several people loitered at the beach, one or two of them clutching surfboards.

And down the beach, a mile or so from the edge of town, the Hotel Magnifico loomed bright as a star.

Thin and rectangular, it was multiple times the height of the tallest buildings in town, composed of slick glass and steel, completely lit up. The valet wore a top hat and a stiff suit that would’ve impressed even Alfred, an honest-to-god plush red carpet cushioning her wheels on the way through the revolving doors. The huge marble lobby was equally resplendent, potted palm trees reaching as tall as most of the Justice League, the walls silvery white, the black leather furniture cleaned to a shine as suited porters bustled about, pushing suitcases with the strength of Amazons. The front desk was also black, polished wood, the clerk behind it a short Costa Rican woman with carefully curled dark hair. She managed the line of late-arriving guests in their fine, expensive clothes with the kind of graceful diplomacy that many actual diplomats would’ve envied.

Barbara felt more than a little out of place.

“You know,” Dick remarked, hefting their bags, “Bruce apologized to me a couple weeks ago for getting us into this place. He said it was the best he could do on such short notice; if he’d had another month before the wedding, he could’ve booked a private villa.”

“How dare he,” she deadpanned. “Making us settle for another five-star hotel.”

“Sometimes I think he forgets that for the first nine years of my life, I lived in a circus trailer about the size of his dining table.”

The middle-aged blond woman ahead of them, wearing a white pantsuit and a necklace worth roughly the same as Barbara’s undergrad scholarship, turned to sniff at the couple in their casual wear and the funk from the commercial airplane still hanging about them. But as she did, she took in Dick for the first time, and her eyes grew wide.

“Richard Grayson?” she exclaimed, her American accent obvious. “Bruce Wayne’s boy?”

For a second, Barbara saw Dick’s eyes grow wide in panic, before his shoulders relaxed and the famous smile that had charmed a great many crossed his lips. The woman tittered in delight.

“Linda, it’s been too long. You look wonderful, really.”

He wasn’t lying. A great part of what made him so charming was that his compliments were never false. It had served him well at many undercover missions and many more Wayne parties and galas. The woman, who now that she thought about it had certainly been at several of those parties, did in fact look quite lovely.

Even if a minute previously she’d been grumbling to herself about the slowness of the clerk, and was now smiling at Dick rather coquettishly — which looked disturbing coming from someone old enough to be his mother.

“Oh you dear boy, you haven’t changed at all. Still a flatterer.”

His smile grew, and he ducked his head. Only Barbara saw the rigidity in his stance, the way his nails dug into his palm. She herself went unacknowledged by the wealthy woman.

“So, how’s your husband? And how’s your daughter?”

“Christina is quite well, she’s just gotten engaged to a oil magnate from Texas, can you believe it? And George is — not here. Which is all that matters.” She eyeballed him some more. “How long will you be staying?”

Barbara had had enough.

“Mrs. Fridlington,” she began in her frostiest voice. Linda jumped, then stared at her as though she were a small dog that had just barked. “I think it’s your turn in line.”

The older woman looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly trying to understand the connection. She squinted at Barbara a few seconds more, before she nodded.

“Yes.” She was markedly less enthusiastic about that recognition. “You’re that girl who used to hang around Brucie’s parties years ago — yes, the girl who got shot. The commissioner’s daughter.” She turned back to Dick. “What’s she doing here with you?”

“Ma’am,” the clerk called gently, her Caribbean accent coloring her words, “We’re ready for you.”

“Oh, very well.” Linda snapped her fingers at a porter, who instantly grabbed her suitcase. “Don’t leave too soon, Richard, I’m certainly not done catching up with you.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dick finally exhaled in relief, dragging his hands up and through his hair.

“I think we may have forgotten the side effect of staying at five-star hotels: other rich people.”

“Snobby, selfish old vulture,” Barbara growled. “Who the hell does she think she is?”

He sighed again.

“It’s okay, Babs, I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ used to getting catcalled on the subway. Just because you get used to something doesn’t make it okay.” She glared off in the older woman’s direction as she headed towards the elevators. “I _hate_ people acting like that. Maybe we shouldn’t have kept our baby and our wedding secret from the public.”

“You said all the attention that would come from letting them know would make you uncomfortable, so as far as I’m concerned, we made the right call.” He squeezed her shoulder, and some of the tension melted out of her. “But can you imagine how she would’ve reacted if she had found out you’re my wife?”

That actually got her to smile.

“She might actually would’ve shut up, at least.”

They moved forward and took their place at the front desk. The clerk, who looked about thirty-five and whose name tag read _Ana_ , looked at Dick, then leaned over the desk to look at Barbara.

“Hello, and welcome to the Hotel Magnifico,” she said magnanimously.

“Hello. We’re already reserved, under ‘Wayne.’”

“Yes...” Ana glanced at the computer, tapping a few keys. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon-Grayson.”

“Aww, he even hyphenated us properly,” Dick grinned.

“I have the two of you in the deluxe honeymoon suite. Does that sound right?”

“Knowing Bruce, yes,” Barbara replied, rolling her eyes.

“Alright.” Ana handed them each a keycard, and a porter manifested out of thin air, taking the suitcases from Dick. “Floor forty, suite 4001. Enjoy your stay.”

“ _Gracias_.”

As they made their way to the elevators, Barbara could’ve sworn she saw, out of the corner of her eye, someone familiar coming through the doors. Someone she knew. But that couldn’t be.

Could it?

 

* * *

 

When he saw that the door to suite 4001 was the only door on the fortieth floor, Dick braced himself. But it still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the opulence that greeted him.

“Holy _fuck_.”

“It’s the honeymoon suite; I think that’s the idea,” he quipped, staring in astonishment.

The place was half the size of Wayne Manor’s entire ground floor. Everyone in his family could’ve camped out there; the living room as big as Bruce’s, equipped with as much furniture. But it was sleek and stylish instead of old-money plush like the Manor; modern art on the walls, the windows bigger than seemed reasonable, the furniture polished white leather, the kitchen — kitchen, not kitchenette — all glass and metal. The coffee table was glass as well, two bathrooms on opposite ends of the suite, both about the size of his first apartment in Bludhaven.

The bedroom, which he peeked in rather eagerly, put the room they’d had their wedding night in to shame; white Egyptian linen sheets on the California king, one entire wall dominated by a Picasso imitation (at least, he _thought_ it was an imitation), another by a sliding glass door that opened to a balcony. The massive windows granted them a view for miles, the short buildings and tiny twinkling lights of Puerto Viejo, the sprawling rainforests on one side, the endless dark ocean on the other, reflecting the cloudless night, the brilliant moon, what looked like a million stars. He never, never would’ve gotten a view like that in Gotham.

He heard Barbara wheeling up behind him and was finally startled out of his reverie. He turned around and took her in as well.

But _that_ view was a constant no matter where he went.

“Do you think Bruce may be overcompensating with how much he’s spent on us?”

“Overcompensating for what? The emotional distance, or the child-soldier bit?”

“For making me eat vegetables when I was a kid.”

“For gossiping with my dad about me when he was supposed to be patrolling.”

“For never approving of who I dated.”

“To be fair, he’s never approved of who your siblings dated either.”

“If _that’s_ what he’s overcompensating for, he’s probably going to buy Jason a _house_ during _his_ honeymoon. And not say why.”

“And grunt when Jason asks him.”

They both laughed.

“I got all our stuff in.” Barbara’s eyes sparkled. “I’m going to shower before bed; commercial airplanes are disgusting. We were in first class and I still feel like I’ve been marinated in two dozen other people’s sweat.”

“Gross, but accurate. I’ll join you.”

Lost in thought, he watched her peel off her sticky clothes as she rolled to the nearest bathroom, doing a cute little series of shimmying to get her skirt and panties off. Just when he thought he’d gotten as familiar as he could be with her body, she’d gotten pregnant. He knew she’d often had a bit of a complicated relationship with her body, but he’d genuinely loved how it’d looked before and how it’d changed. He loved how it looked now: her hair thicker, her breasts bigger, the C-section scar curving above her bikini line, a bit of unprecedented softness to her jaw and over her muscles, especially over her belly, which was also striped with pale stretch marks.

She made a soft noise of satisfaction as she noticed a seating ledge extending about halfway through the massive shower. Clambering out of her chair, she edged herself onto it and contemplated the multiple knobs and nozzles.

“Now I know how Katniss felt her first time in the Capitol.”

“I think you got overly invested in that series.”

“Says the guy who threw his book down when Finnick got killed.”

“It wasn’t fair!” he protested, shucking off his underwear and clambering in after her. “None of those deaths were fair!”

“That was the _point_ , Dick.”

“I know, but I’m still upset about it.”

Hot water gushed down and he sighed with relief, scrubbing the layer of airplane grime off his skin and ruffling lemon shampoo through his hair.

“So which death do you think was the least fair?”

“Prim,” she said without hesitation.

“Oh god, you’re right, that one _was_ the worst. And that’s saying something, considering how many people died horribly.”

“A scathing indictment of societal evil — and a very violent one. I’ve always thought that a well-written dystopian story can be really fascinating, and the themes within are often far too relevant.” She took the shampoo and squirted it through her own hair. “That being said, I think most of them are a little too bleak for you.”

“Yeah, but especially the one you were reading on the plane; _that_ was bleak.”

“I wouldn’t recommend you watch the show, then.”

“Too bad, I love Samira Wiley.”

He watched her run her hands through her hair as they talked, the bubbles and water streaming off down her shoulders, back, and chest. They were close enough that he could smell the lavender soap on her skin, see the water glistening on it.

He swallowed a bit, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“I think you’d like murder mystery, though,” she said thoughtfully, rinsing off the last of the shampoo. “I brought a couple Agatha Christie novels with me, if you’re interested.”

“Murder mystery isn’t bleak?”

“No, actually, a lot of her endings are quite hopeful and/or poignant.”

“I might be tempted then.”

She smiled, shifting in place a bit, the muscles in her shoulders rolling and her wet hair falling over the top of her left arm. He inhaled sharply, feeling himself begin to get aroused.

“Hmm. That’s apparently not the only thing tempting you.”

“What can I say?” Licking his lips some more, he braced one hand on his hip. “You are _sinfully_ good-looking.” He ignored her eye roll and kept talking. “Especially right now. Like a sexy wet librarian, who also lifts.”

“That is no one’s fantasy.”

“That is everyone’s fantasy. Particularly if she’s wet in more ways than one.” He raised an eyebrow.

She stared at him for a few moments.

“You are absolutely unbelievable.”

“Hey, you married me — _mmf!_ ”

She had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him down for her kiss, then swiftly slid her hands up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hoisting herself up. He braced his hands on each of her thighs, holding them steady around his waist, feeling his grip slide against her slick skin. The water continued coming down; he tilted his head back as she pressed her mouth to his, her tongue sliding between his lips.

Her wet skin against his, her body pressing against him, he felt his erection grow, feeling himself throb with want.

Dick turned, moving forward and propping her up against the tiled wall, feeling the muscles in her arms bunch as she clutched his back, feeling her breasts press against his chest, her nipples hard as pebbles. They rubbed against each others’ chests as they kept kissing; his heart pounded. One hand clutched his hair; he kissed her open-mouthed, pulling back to say, his voice hoarse:

“You want this, Babs? You want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, yes, god yes.”

Almost gently, he spread her thighs further open. The head of his cock briefly rubbed at her folds, making her gasp and moan, before pushing inside her.

She fluttered around him, so hot and velvety and wet, and he threw his head back, letting out a long guttural groan.

His fingers tightened on her thighs, her back slipping down slightly while her ass tipped up, and he was suddenly in the perfect position to thrust deep into her. Which he did.

She whined, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“Do that again.”

“So bossy.” His next thrust was slow, speeding up, building up a swift rhythm.

“I can give you bossy.” Her breath was hot against his skin, her words slipping like water, like the roaring of the shower. She clenched around him, and he hissed through his teeth. “I want you to fuck me so deep I can feel it in my throat, and then after you cum inside me I want you to clean it out with your tongue.”

Her words went straight to his cock; he grunted and offered an especially powerful thrust, making her gasp.

“That was bossy?”

“ _Do it._ ” Her nails dragged against his skin.

His movements sped up, plunging into her again and again, aided by the water and the slickness of her cunt. One arm bore her entire weight, the other hand wriggled between them to play with her clit, and she was soon coming around him with a drawn-out groan.

He thrust twice more and spilled inside her, exhaling hard. For a moment, they remained like that, panting, letting the water wash away their exertion.

Then Dick pulled out and turned off the shower, carrying her out and grabbing two towels on the way. They hastily dried themselves off before he picked her up again, laying her down across the expanse of the bed. Her legs naturally fell open, and he caught his breath.

She was messy with him, so full of his seed that it had spilled out of her and smeared on the freckled insides of her thighs. He could hear her heavy breathing from the other side of the bed, see the expanse of her pale skin.

“You just going to look at it all night?”

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, pushing her thighs further apart and hooking them over his shoulders, “I plan to do much more than look.”

Lying flat against the sheets, he lowered his head and pushed his face forward, dipping his tongue inside her.

He was rewarded with one of her familiar gasps, and a strong hand clenching his hair, tugging sharply. Encouraged, he closed his eyes and lapped her up, running his tongue along her folds, diving inside her slit to lick up the mess that was both their cum. He didn’t even mind his own taste, mingled with her the way it was.

His lips closed around her clit, suckling, flicking his tongue against it; she let out a little shriek and yanked on his hair again.

He couldn’t deny that he liked that. A lot.

Almost as much as he liked devouring her, eating greedily, his throat contracting as he sucked in quick breaths, her hot arousal pooling and laving over his lips and tongue. God, it was such a thrill to know he could get her like this, to make her feel so good.

She was practically sobbing with delight as he lapped her up, his nose rubbing against her swollen clit, his lips smacking noisily, dripping with slick.

“Oh, my love...so good, you’re so good for me.”

Her words warmed him to the core. His eyes fluttering shut again, he gave her more long, strong laps, patiently letting her breaths build to a crescendo before she came again, all over his mouth.

Dick pulled away and lifted his head, listening to her panting. It took a minute before her breathing steadied; she propped herself up on her hands and gazed down at him, her eyes soft with affection. The hand that had been pulling his hair instead stroked over it, caressing down the side of his face and cupping his cheek. He leaned his head into it.

“I love you,” he said softly, blinking up at her.

“I love you too.” Her thumb caressed his skin.

He slipped out from under her legs, clambering up next to her. They laid down side by side; he let her wrap her arms around him from behind, and he took her hand.

She nuzzled him, kissing the back of his neck. He sighed and settled against her.

Two quiet weeks to be together, no crises or tragedies or apocalypses or interference from friends or family drama, just them. Two weeks to relax and to be happy and to love. Almost an alien concept, but he was more than willing to live it out with her.

Dick’s eyes were just fluttering shut when the screaming started.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Father’s Day to all of you guys with good dads, and to the good dads themselves. To those of you without, happy belated Father’s Day to Alfred and Jim and Bruce and Dick and all the other dads of the DCU instead, and even though I’m only nineteen and not a man, I’m your dad now.

Dick’s eyes flew open; all thoughts of sleep jolted out of him. In a heartbeat, he was out of the bed, snatching clean pants from his suitcase on his way out.

He’d made it to the bedroom door by the time he froze, turning back to face the woman still sitting up in bed.

“What are you waiting for?” Barbara demanded, wide awake too. “Go!”

He nodded, then turned and sped through the living room and out the door, down to the elevator.

The screams kept coming, from the floor below their suite. Several more guests had been roused, emerging from their rooms in their robes and kimonos and curlers, crowding around the door the noise was coming from.

“Is that Kim’s room?” one woman fretted. “If anything’s happened to her —!”

“Kim Princely?”

“Descended from the Princelys who were all in the railroad business back in the day?”

“Who else?”

Dick elbowed one middle-aged man out of the way and knocked loudly on the door. The screams tapered off, to be replaced by shuddering gasps.

“Miss Princely,” he called, “what’s happened? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come in?”

A few more seconds passed.

“I — I’m not hurt,” came a young woman’s high-pitched voice, accented with the tones of someone who’d grown up in southern California — Los Angeles, Pasadena maybe. Several people sighed in relief at her assertion. “But — but — yes please, come in.”

The door clicked open, and Dick stepped through cautiously.

She was dark-haired, pale and slim, around twenty or so, wearing a sheer pink nightgown. One trembling hand was clasped to her chest, the other pointed to an open window. Gossamer curtains fluttered in the warm breeze.

“There was a man,” she whimpered, “a foreign man. Dressed in black. I woke up to him standing over me; he told me to get out. That everyone like me didn’t belong in this country, that we were — we were intruders. He had a knife! He left — he left when I started screaming.”

“It’s okay,” Dick said soothingly, lifting his hands, like he was approaching a spooked horse. “He’s gone. You’re not hurt.”

A glint of metal on the floor caught his eye. But he didn’t draw attention to it.

Kim took a long breath, letting her hands fall. She looked at him with gratitude painted all over her face.

“You’re Dick Grayson,” she realized. “I heard — Linda Fridlington told Eloise Mercer you were here.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Kim...the man who threatened you, what did he look like?” He kept his voice gentle.

She thought about it.

“He was tall. Big. I — I think about thirty. I also...I’m pretty sure he was a native. He had a scar through his left eyebrow.”

Dick exhaled hard.

At the same time, the other women’s voices echoed from the hallway.

“Kim? Kim darling, are you alright?”

She let out a long breath, then rushed out into the hallway to be comforted more. When she was gone, Dick went to the window.

Thirty-ninth floor. He looked down and out to sheer glass and metal, straight up and down. There was no sign of a grappling rope; the man who’d threatened her would’ve had to have vanished into thin air.

But Dick knew it could be done.

He then walked a little closer to the bed and bent down. He’d been right; the man must’ve been startled by Kim’s screaming, because he’d dropped his knife.

It was beautiful; Damian would’ve loved it. The gleaming steel blade was curved, tipping up at the end. The handle was curved too, almost hourglass-shaped, and embossed with circular patterns. He cast a finger along the edge and saw that it was wickedly sharp.

“Amateur move, leaving behind evidence,” Dick murmured.

Hiding the dagger behind his back, ready to slip back upstairs, he cast one last look to the window.

There were only so many people in the world who could slip in and out of that room. He just had to figure out who.

And why?

 

* * *

 

Barbara’s tablet beeped to indicate that the forensic scan was done.

“It was definitely forged recently,” she reported, glancing down at the weapon on her bedsheets. “Within the last five years or so. The steel was smelted in the Damascus style, and comes from iron that was mined in northern China. The dagger itself is known as a _janbiya_ , the design of which is most commonly associated with Saudi Arabia and Yemen.” She glanced at Dick, who was seated across the bed from her. “Did Kim Princely say that her attacker was Arab?”

He shrugged.

“She said she was sure he was a native. In other words, he could actually be Latino, he could be Arab, he could be black, indigenous, Roma, Pakistani, Indian, Southeast Asian —”

“So all she knows is that he wasn’t white.”

“Basically.”

She sighed deeply, powering off her tablet.

“He said he wants wealthy Americans out of the country? He’s likely not acting alone. And he likely won’t stop at just threatening Kim.”

Dick’s eyes flicked down to the dagger. She recognized his expression immediately.

“Oh no. I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is no.”

“Babs —”

“No! I’m anonymously sending the information to the local authorities, and that’s _it_. We’re staying out of it. We came here to rest, not to get entangled in another bad-guy scheme.”

But even as she said it, she too yearned to know what was going on, to figure it out. What if the authorities couldn’t figure it out in time? Or at all? What could happen if they stayed out of it?

She pushed the thoughts away, even as he looked at her intently.

“Look, let’s just go to bed, okay? We never get multiple decent night’s sleeps in a row.”

“Alright.” He dropped the subject, albeit with obvious reluctance.

Barbara set aside her tablet and carefully slipped the dagger into the outside pocket of her suitcase. But this time, even as she lay next to him, it took much longer for her to relax enough to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Stephanie was, as usual, the last person to wake up upon that Thursday morning, especially since the previous day had been her last day of classes. Quickly showering and getting dressed, she stumbled down the great staircase and was surprised to find Jason still lingering in the living room.

Wearing tattered jeans, a _Fight The Power_ t-shirt, and his second-favorite leather jacket, he’d draped himself across the couch, the baby curled up on his chest. Jason’s laptop was propped open on the coffee table, playing a movie, and both he and John were quietly engrossed with _Beauty and the Beast_.

Stephanie couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, Jay.”

He started for a moment, then grinned up at her.

“Hey, Blondie. If you’re looking for your girl, she’s at ballet practice.”

“Actually, I was looking for Damian. I wanna take him to the arcade, since Dick’s not here to do it, and maybe get ice cream later.”

“Well, he’s out walking the dogs. And B and Tim are at work, Duke’s on patrol, and Alfred’s vacuuming.”

“And you’re being surprisingly cute for someone who complained so much about only being able to watch G and PG movies with the kid.”

Jason scowled at her, but with no real heat.

“Shush. It’s the good part.”

Still smiling, Steph leaned against the back of the couch and dug out her phone, figuring that she could kill some time with them until Damian came back. For a few minutes, she scrolled through her social media feeds, listening to the movie (and Jason’s opinionated commentary).

“But really,” she finally spoke up again, “for a vigilante-former-crime-lord with a rap sheet like yours, you’re sure great with that baby.”

“You forgot to mention that I’m still wanted in six states and Nepal.” One big, calloused hand stroked gently over the tiny head. “As long as the kid doesn’t spit up on this jacket, he’s good.”

“Good thing Lian’s too old for that,” she said lightly. Then she had an idea. “Hey. Wanna come with me and Damian?”

He craned his neck back and looked at her.

“After lunch and your movie’s over, obviously. You can bring John, I’m sure Alfred will be happy about not having to worry about him and cleaning the house. Loser Robins gotta stick together, right?”

Jason broke into a grin.

 

* * *

 

Dick had decided to take a walk after lunch, to clear his head. Barbara had promised to wait up for him, but he really hadn’t liked how troubled she’d looked before he’d left, or that they hadn’t talked too much after she’d closed the subject of the case.

Irritated, he kicked a pebble along the side of the road. Some way to start off your honeymoon — by upsetting your wife.

“Typical, Grayson,” he muttered to himself as he walked into town. “Just typical.”

Puerto Viejo was beautiful, at least. He liked how different everything about it was from what he was used to, from the tiny buildings to the omnipresent sound of the ocean waves in the distance. He liked how many people were out and about in the middle of the day, surrounding him with a pleasant hum of chatter. He liked the smiles everyone seemed to wear, and how that little corner restaurant played guitar music on tinny speakers.

Dick kept meandering around, taking in every shade of color, every note of sound. The sun, beaming down from a cloudless sky, felt like a balm on his nerves.

It was another turn down past a cluster of souvenir stands before he saw the flower shop.

 _Las Flores de Camila,_ read the hand-painted sign. The place was overflowing with greenery and multicolored blooms, to the point that bouquets and potted bushes took up the first few feet of sidewalk as well. A tall, handsome man stood in the doorway, wearing cutoff jeans and an apron, sweeping off the stoop.

He glanced up when he saw Dick.

“Let me guess. You’re American?”

Dick looked down at his board shorts and one of his Hawaiian shirts, patterned with coconuts and parrots, and privately acknowledged that yeah, he’d earned that assumption.

But that didn’t stop him from taking off his sunglasses, smirking, and retorting:

“Let me guess. You’re Camila?”

The man sighed and leaned on his broom like he got that a lot. His eyes and curly hair were the color of fine-roasted coffee beans, his skin burnished brown. He had strong arms and shoulders, and the beginnings of laughter lines around his eyes, though he couldn’t have been past his early thirties.

“I’m Camila’s brother. Enrique Santiago.” Smiling a bit begrudgingly, he wiped his hand off on his apron and extended it to Dick. The two men shook. “Looking for some flowers?”

“Actually, now that I think about it, that does sound like a good idea.” Dick rubbed the back of his neck.

“Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Wife? Husband? Platonic life partner?”

“Wife.” He surveyed the bouquets. “I’d like to make her happy. You know, it’s hard when you’ve been married so long.”

“Always a good goal, to make your significant other happy,” Enrique agreed. “How long _have_ you two been married?”

“About forty-three hours.”

Enrique started, eyebrows raising in amusement.

“But in all seriousness, it’s actually really good being with her, especially now that we’re married. We’ve known each other nearly half my life.”

“I’m sorry, you didn’t say you were getting flowers for your best friend.”

“You’re right, I _should_ have mentioned that.”

Enrique smiled again.

“You know, you don’t strike me as being like most of the American tourists my sister and I get, terrible outfit aside. You definitely like your spouse better than most of them seem to.”

“My outfit is excellent, thank you.” He paused. “But really, thanks.”

“No problem.” Enrique ascended the steps, moving towards the cash register. “Just remember, _stay_ different. If you go to the beach or the jaguar rescue center, don’t throw your garbage on the ground. It’s annoyingly common, and a real — how do you say it in English? — dick move.”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh.

“Even for me, that’d be a dick move.”

 

* * *

 

Barbara had promised not to leave the Magnifico until Dick got back, but even the huge expanse of their suite felt stifling after an hour or so. Frustrated with herself, she set aside her book and decided to get a cup of coffee at the hotel restaurant.

She was practically invisible as she wove through the floors, passing balding men and overly-tanned women getting massages, or puffing along on treadmills, or on their way to the pool. But being invisible, she was able to catch snatches of conversation between the wealthy groups of friends:

“Yes, Kim Princely was threatened in person —”

“But you know, I found a paper threat in my room when I got there —”

“— a death threat! Me too.”

“The handwriting was _so_ sloppy.”

“Really? The handwriting in mine was very neat.”

“Mine _reeked_ of fish. These foreigners...”

“Why aren’t the staff doing their jobs and keeping the wackos out of this place?”

The only time one of these people acknowledged her as she passed through those hallways was when one man glanced down his nose at her and said to his friend:

“You know, if they’re going to hire new housekeeping, the girls should be prettier. And _not_ cripples. How is she going to use the vacuum cleaner in that thing?”

“I blame affirmative action,” his friend agreed. “All this political correctness these days...”

Barbara’s teeth were thoroughly ground by the time she got down to the restaurant.

“Idiots,” she growled, thunking her purse down on the table with enough force to startle a waiter. “They don’t even _have_ affirmative action in Costa Rica. _Imbeciles_.”

She kept fuming, still torn between her innate desire to investigate and her promise of a real vacation. She had just wrapped up a major case only two months prior, a case that had taken up a great deal of her time and effort for most of a year. She knew full well how Dick tended to throw himself into his work, at his own detriment. She wanted to take the case, she wanted to rest, but more so, she wanted her husband to rest. And she knew he would hate it if she took it alone.

She stirred cream and sugar into her coffee with more force than necessary, glancing out and around at the restaurant. It was mostly empty, with only three other patrons. An elderly man drinking tea and taking in an actual newspaper, the old-fashioned print kind. A woman with pale brown skin, short black hair, and dark eyes, having a salad and reading the _Financial Times_. A slightly scruffy man with very blond longish hair, studying something on his laptop —

Barbara realized with a shock that not only was this the man at the door the previous night who’d looked familiar, but she knew why he looked familiar.

“Jason?”

It came out louder than she’d intended.

He whipped around, gasping slightly when he saw her.

“Barbara.” It was astonished, happy. It nearly made her wince. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I — what are you doing here? How did you afford a trip to a place like this?”

“I’m a P.I., not a cop anymore. I’m not exactly starving, Babs.” He studied her with a kind of controlled delight, like he wasn’t _quite_ willing to express himself. “But I got a big commission. Super rich business executive, she’s suspicious that her boss has an enemy on this island, sending their associates death threats. She wants me to find that enemy.”

Barbara suddenly realized that both he and the wealthy hotel patrons were a step behind the perpetrator. They thought it was the work of a group of madmen. He thought it was the work of a single entity. It couldn’t possibly be both.

“I see.” She studied him over the rim of her coffee cup. “It’s been a long time since we last talked. How have you been, Jason? Work’s okay? Got a girlfriend?”

“Long time is right. I remember the last few times we talked; your friend Dinah, she’s something else.”

“Very true.”

“Anyway, I’ve been alright. But no, no girlfriend.” A trace of hope entered his eyes. “What about you? You don’t have a boyfriend stashed somewhere, do you?”

“Well...”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of color across the lobby. Her head whipped around; Jason followed her gaze.

Dick had returned, and in his hands he held a massive bouquet, made up of tropical flowers in every shade imaginable, interspersed with sheafs of greenery. He’d been on his way to the elevator, but the sudden movement of her head, and her hair, must’ve caught his attention.

He made a quick beeline over to the restaurant, right over to her table. The other patrons watched him as he bent down before her, presenting the flowers.

Her heart thundered.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, accepting the gift.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

The old man let out a soft hum of approval, the woman pressed her hand to her mouth and smiled. Jason, for his part, looked supremely confused...and disappointed.

“And you are?” he inquired as Dick straightened up.

Barbara sighed as the two men looked at each other.

“Jason, do you remember Dick Grayson?”

“Hang on.” He ruffled a hand through his blond hair. “Oh yeah. Bruce Wayne’s first adopted son. The one who ran off to San Francisco, and then Bludhaven. Honestly, I mostly just remember him as that hyperactive, scrawny kid who told bad jokes and was always tailing after you all starry-eyed.”

“Oh boy.”

“I wasn’t _that_ scrawny,” Dick protested, noticeably not denying the rest of it.

Jason looked at him again, then at them, then did a double take.

“Oh. _Oh_. You two are...together?”

“Yeah, let’s call it that.”

The other two patrons were very badly pretending not to be eavesdropping.

“I’ve got to say, I never would’ve predicted that.”

“Yeah, my luck is a bit hard for _me_ to believe, and I was the starry-eyed one.” Dick put a hand on her shoulder. “So, Jason, you doing some P.I. work, or are you just here for the pretty girls?”

“P.I. work.” He got to his feet, closing his laptop. “Actually, I have a Skype meeting with my client pretty soon. Barbara, it was nice to see you again. Dick...you too.”

He left in a hurry, not making eye contact.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all. I wonder who his client is.”

“That reminds me.” Adjusting the flowers on her lap carefully, she turned and looked at him. “Dick, we need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

The arcade wasn’t too busy that afternoon, which Damian seemed to appreciate.

“Yes!” he crowed upon arrival. “Time to crush my opponents’ scores, drive them into the dust, and prove myself the one true victor —”

“Hey gremlin, it’s Cheese Viking, not the Hunger Games,” Jason scoffed.

“Shows how much _you_ know, Todd.” Damian ran off to the game, yelling with childish glee. Jason and Stephanie looked at him and then each other with a mix of exasperation and affection. John flapped his arms and gurgled from his place in the stroller.

“Hang on, kiddo.” Steph carefully arranged his toys so that he was framed by the Black Canary and Flash plushies, and placed his toy elephant — his father had picked it out — in his chubby arms, which made him coo. “There you go.”

Jason hummed, smiling a bit.

“I’m not sure whether I really want him to have some brothers and sisters so we can have more like him, or if I really don’t want to inflict that kind of pain on a tiny kid.”

“If I know his parents at all, I know they definitely want to parent more. And if I know the way they fuck, then they’re definitely going to get that chance,” Steph said cheekily.

Jason let out a very loud burst of laughter.

“You are so right. Wanna play some Mythics? I used to love that game.”

“Hell yeah.”

They parked the stroller and spent a turn each on the game, battling Greek monsters as fierce Amazon warriors and cursing at the screen. Steph lasted most of an hour and very nearly beat the high score while Jason entertained the baby, but she had only been playing with John for twenty minutes before Jason lost his last life rather gruesomely to a hungry Cyclops.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, stepping aside. “They’ve made it harder since I was a kid.”

“Nope,” she said smugly. “You just suck.”

Jason flipped her off.

John started whining right on cue and Stephanie immediately scooped him up, propping him in her arms while Jason dug around in the bottom of the stroller for his bottle.

As she fed the baby, Jason leaned on her shoulder, which felt rather like a brick wall was tilting against her, and watched, unusually quiet.

Even Damian paused his game and joined them once he saw what was going on.

“Yes, I understand that it’s not your mother, but you still need to eat,” he encouraged. “Yes, even if you are getting fat. You’re supposed to be.”

Stephanie couldn’t help but smile, big and broad.

That is, until Jason’s head snapped up. He looked around toward the door, then grimaced.

“Look alive,” he muttered. “We’re being watched.”

A woman in a crisp blouse and pencil skirt had been passing along the sidewalk, but had apparently noticed them, because she’d paused and started pretending to check her phone in the doorway of the arcade.

“Oh no,” Steph moaned. “It’s Vicki Vale, the reporter from hell. Here to make our lives more difficult again.”

“Why Father found her attractive, I have no idea,” Damian agreed.

“Bruce didn’t actually even like her that much, he was just wetting his whistle,” was Jason’s — most likely correct — opinion. “And now, the rest of us get to suffer for it. Remember when she tried to prove to the public about our ‘night jobs,’ and then made out that Tim was engaged to Tam Fox?”

“I can’t believe _you_ remember that.”

As they talked, Vicki made her way over, feigning casualness.

“Damian! Damian, hello. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Piss off, she-demon.”

Jason snorted loudly. Undeterred, Vicki’s attention was instantly drawn to him.

“And you...you look familiar too. Like I’ve seen you before.”

“That’s what the guy who served me my subpoena said.”

This time, it was Steph who snorted.

Vicki’s look in her direction was more than a little distasteful —

“Ah, and you’re that...girl...Timothy Drake knows...”

— at least until she noticed John lying in Steph’s arms. Then her eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“...whose baby is that?” Her whisper was one of quiet glee, the look on her face like a greedy child who had just found out that Christmas had come early.

Damian, who up until that point had just looked bored and annoyed, now sprang to action, standing between the two women like a shield.

“None of your business, you interfering harpy!” he spat. Vicki just looked over his shoulder.

“Is it someone important’s? Someone wealthy, someone important? Is it another one of Bruce’s? And with whom?”

“It’s the lovechild of the cast of _The Walking Dead_ ,” Jason snarked. “The cast all with each other at once, I mean. And the crew.”

“It’s alright. You can be honest with me.”

She kept staring intently, trying to pick out familiar features in John’s face, in the color of his skin, his eyes, in the freckles that were starting to manifest just like his mother’s. One hand reached out towards him, he started squirming and whimpering, and a surge of protective anger roused itself in Steph with force to rival Damian’s.

“Didn’t you hear the kid?” she snarled, clutching the baby to her chest. “ _Piss off._ It’s none of your fucking business.”

Damian smacked Vicki’s hand away, and she jerked back like she’d touched a hot stove, the boy and the woman looking at each other with no-longer-veiled disgust.

“Fine,” she said delicately, “if you don’t want to tell me. I’ll just have to figure it out for myself.”

She readjusted herself, pocketing her phone and stepping out of the arcade. Stephanie handed the baby to Damian, who immediately propped him up on his shoulder, rubbing him on the back and murmuring in Arabic.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured the boys — and herself. “she’s got nothing to go on. Bruce covered up the wedding, especially since it was on his grounds and there were so many superheroes attending, and Babs gave birth in a _private_ clinic.”

“I know, Steph, I was there for both those things.” Jason looked to the door.

“But you don’t really think it’ll stay covered up, do you?”

“You want me to be like you and Dick, or do you want me to answer that honestly?”

“I, for one, think it’s best to cover all our options, especially with those vile reporters,” Damian spoke up. “Threaten, cajole, bribe, maim, plead the Fourth, whatever it takes to keep him safe and this quiet.”

“It’s ‘plead the Fifth,’ Damian.”

“Yes, well, you know I’m not American; thank god for that...”

She put a hand on the agitated boy’s unoccupied shoulder; he started.

“And most importantly: no matter what happens, he’s still got us.”

He looked at her like he wasn’t quite willing to hope.

“I’m serious! We’re good fighters, and we’re semi-competent human beings. And we’re willing to maim.”

“Optimist she may be, but she’s got a point there,” Jason agreed.

Damian actually smiled, just a bit. Stephanie felt proud.

 

* * *

 

Once they got back to the hotel room, Dick asked,

“Do we need to talk because your ex-fiancé the P.I. is here, and so logically should be the one left to the case?”

“I didn’t say that.” The heady sweet scent of the bouquet on her lap filled her nose.

“But I get it if you will.” He sat down on one of the white leather couches. “He’s licensed, I’m supposed to be leaving this to the professionals —”

“Professionals? I said the local authorities. You were trained and taught to surpass the world’s greatest detective, by the man himself.” She gazed at the flowers, tracing her fingers over the petals. “Dick, it’s not that I didn’t trust you, or that I didn’t think you were qualified. I guess I should’ve said that before. It’s that I worry about you. I wanted to investigate, but I knew you’d be upset if I did and told you not to. But you tend to work yourself to the bone, and I wanted you to rest.”

She rolled closer to the couch.

“I want you to have this vacation.”

He looked up, meeting her gaze.

“Babs, I wasn’t upset because I thought you thought I wasn’t qualified. I was upset because you were upset. The last year’s been so hard for you, _I_ wanted _you_ to rest. To have this vacation.”

A moment passed. Then Barbara almost laughed, drawing her hand up and through her hair. Dick grinned sheepishly.

“God, we’re both idiots.”

“Yeah. Okay, from now on, we’re going to talk about these things _when they happen._ ”

“That would be good.”

She set the flowers down on the coffee table, and clambered up next to him. She leaned in, stroking his face, and watching him begin to relax under her touch. She leaned in and kissed him slowly.

“We’re a team now,” she said softly. “We need to communicate. To work together.”

“Hey, we may not have always been good at communicating...” He kissed her again. “But we’ve always been a team.”

Barbara pulled away just long enough to peel off her t-shirt and shorts, letting Dick unbutton that silly Hawaiian shirt and shuck his own pants down his legs. She unclipped her bra, shaking her hair back over her shoulders and laying down on top of him.

It was some minutes before they did anything, just lay together, moving slightly against each other, caressing and kissing. As they did, she felt them both get aroused; felt the warm wetness start to pulse between her legs, felt his cock rubbing hot against her skin. He stroked her hair and her freckled, muscular expanse of her back. She traced her fingers over his scars, losing herself in the heat of his body.

After a while, he gently flipped her over so that she was on her back, almost still lying against her. She couldn’t feel it then, but she could see his erection nudging up against her thigh.

She nodded to him, and then they were making love with all the softness of their foreplay, even as he was still hot and hard inside her. His rhythm was slow; Barbara swallowed his groans and gasps as they kept kissing. She dripped slick, felt him deep in her belly.

They were still skin-to-skin, her arms wrapped around his back, when they came together, moaning in tandem, some undetermined length of time later. She smiled at him, pushing a lock of black hair out of his face, relishing feeling him and his hot seed dripping out of her.

“That was unexpected,” he breathed.

“I don’t know why; you know as well as I do what your siblings are calling this trip.”

She let him chuckle a bit before she spoke again.

“You know we can’t use sex to solve all the difficult things that are going to happen to us though, right?”

“Who’s trying to solve anything?” He nuzzled at her neck. “I’m just enjoying being with you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” She just smiled for a little while, then tossed her head back and swatted him on the ass. “That being said, get off.”

He drew back and grinned at her.

“I thought I just did.”

She groaned while he laughed at his own joke.

“ _Off_ , Grayson. I can’t start looking into those threats if you’re squishing me.”

He stopped laughing and stared at her in surprise, pulling up and away so that she could sit up.

“You’re going to investigate?”

“ _We’re_ going to investigate. Together.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as she pulled herself up into her wheelchair.

“I think I understand. You think we can find a balance between resting and figuring out what’s going on if we do it together. Nobody overworks themself.”

“Exactly.” She eased herself in. “At the moment, we don’t have a lot to go on, but there’s always something. If one of the perps was novice enough to leave behind such a significant piece of evidence, there’s definitely going to be something.”

“You should try the security cameras,” Dick suggested. “I’ll see if I can talk to someone about the threats, maybe even get to look at a physical copy.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She paused. “I just need to do one thing first.”

Dick looked puzzled until she lifted up the flower bouquet.

“Call for a vase to put these in.”

He got to his feet and kissed her on the forehead.

“I’ll be snooping around.”

“You know where to find me,” she smiled in response.

 

* * *

 

She really did plan for everything.

There’d been a spare set of coms in her luggage, and they’d each taken one before he’d left the hotel room. Back in his board shorts and sandals, but she’d made him wear an plain button-down, presumably to catch less attention.

Though Dick strongly suspected that it was because she just didn’t like his taste in clothing.

“And here I thought smart people were supposed to be more open-minded.”

“You know I can hear you,” came her dry voice in his ear.

“Yeah, I know.”

He sauntered casually down the thirty-ninth floor hallway, listening carefully at the doors for voices.

“Doing this I always feel kind of like a spy. You think I should be a spy?”

“Oh god, no, don’t be a spy.”

“What, you don’t want me to be like Bond? Do you not want to be a Bond girl?”

“First of all, I’d be M and you know it. Second of all, you’d suck at being a spy: you can’t be anyone other than yourself and you can’t not have attachments.”

“I was kidding; I already know I’d hate being a spy.” He paused. “But I do like this kind of work.”

It wasn’t until he got down to the thirty-eighth floor, at room 3803, that he struck gold. Through the door, he heard a high-pitched young woman’s voice talking in low tones with an older woman, presumably the room’s occupant.

“Good news: it’s Kim from last night, and she’s _not_ with Linda Fridlington,” he murmured.

“That _is_ good news. Do you recognize who she’s with?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Alright. While you’re in there, I’ll check the security tapes. Keep me wired.”

“You got it.”

He lifted his hand and knocked twice on the door. The conversation ground to a halt.

“Kim? Are you in there?” he asked, keeping his voice light and friendly.

“Who’s asking?” the older woman said suspiciously.

“It’s okay Eloise, it’s Dick Grayson,” said Kim, suddenly sounding a lot more cheerful. “I recognize his voice.”

“Very well then.”

The door clicked open, and Dick found himself facing a regal woman of about fifty with neatly curled silver hair. Her outfit was a tad old-fashioned, but elegant, like something out of those movies with Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn that Donna liked. Her only show of opulence was the multitude of rings that sparkled on her fingers.

“You must be Eloise Mercer,” he said, recalling the name from the previous night. “Are you Linda Fridlington’s friend?”

Her nostrils flared for a moment before she regained her aloof attitude.

“That little bitch?” she said dismissively. “Hardly. I interact with most of these people because I must. There are very few of them that I actually like — and they are the only ones who may know what I think about the others.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You may be. I’ve heard a great deal about you since you were a boy.” She studied him. “Quite the prodigy, back in your day —”

He bit back a “Boy Wonder” joke.

“— I still will never understand why you chose to be an ordinary police officer of all things, instead of taking your place in Wayne Enterprises. Lord knows you might as well have been born to Bruce, the way he speaks of you.”

“Call it trying to do the right thing from the ground up.” He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking too of how it had also been part of his efforts to make a name for himself, as himself. He wasn’t quite willing to share that bit of family history with Eloise. “May I speak to Kim, please? I want to make sure she hasn’t gotten any more death threats.”

“I can tell you myself that she hasn’t.” Eloise tossed her magnificent head. “But I have.”

Dick raised his eyebrows, struck by her flippancy towards her own safety.

“I have no faith in the competency of whichever fool thinks they can threaten me,” she said, as if she could read his thoughts. “Come inside, I’ll show you...Kim’ll be pleased, too.”

Kim, who was now wearing heeled sandals and a tiny yellow sundress, did indeed brighten when she saw him. As Eloise rummaged around on her nightstand, the younger woman moved over to Dick’s side, grasping his arm.

“It’s lovely to see you again,” she breathed. One hand fluttered up and down his bicep. “You were _so_ kind last night. And I always get scared in foreign places.”

“Did you not travel with your parents?”

“I’m old enough to travel by myself —”

“Barely,” Barbara muttered in his ear all of a sudden. Dick fought to not visibly react.

“— and anyway, Mother and Daddy always like to go to the South of France for the summer.” She peered up at him through her lashes. “Did _you_ come with anyone? I hope you didn’t.”

Dick was spared having to answer when Eloise came back over, the death threat in hand. He took Kim’s hands off his arm and accepted the piece of paper.

_You and the rest like you get out of our country you filthy gringa or I’ll kill you I swear I will._

“Evidently, half the hotel found one similar to this slipped under their door in the night,” Eloise said rather dryly. “That famous Caribbean friendliness and easygoingness in action, I see.”

“I did say the man who came into my room was a native, didn’t I?”

The handwriting was sloping and elegant, not fitting with the tone and poor grammar at all. The paper was rather thick and heavy, like fancy card stock. And the ink was clearly free-flowing, meant for calligraphy; the pen couldn’t have been cheap.

Dick wondered if the rich patrons were so used to those kinds of details in their lives that they didn’t know why, in this context, it was so unusual.

“I’d still be concerned, if I were you.” He handed the paper back to Eloise. “Whoever’s sending these threats, they’re definitely dedicated.”

“Your worry for me is unnecessary.” She softened a bit, just for a moment. “But appreciated nonetheless.”

“I told you, Eloise.” Kim tried to take his arm again. “He’s _so_ sweet.”

Dick slipped neatly out of range of her.

“I’m glad you’re both doing okay. I’ll see you around.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Barbara continued to lie on the couch in silence as Dick told her the details of the death threat. Her tablet was sitting propped on her lap; she was wearing nothing but a bathrobe. The flowers that he’d given her were now blooming in a vase on the glass coffee table, afternoon sunlight illuminating the suite, making the bright petals almost glow.

“And I couldn’t get anything from any the security tapes I hacked,” she reported in turn. “I don’t think that the threats were slipped under the doors: the people that delivered them went through the windows too.”

He sat down on the couch next to her, slipping her bare legs up over his lap.

“So the significance of that is —”

“That there are many people involved. And that these people are highly physically competent, almost to the breaking point of human ability, and they have access to, or at least access to someone with, great resources. In other words, I highly doubt it’s the Costa Ricans.”

“But someone wants to make it _look_ like it’s the Costa Ricans. The question is: why?”

“I don’t know yet.” She looked fiercely at her tablet screen. “But we will.”

He took her hand.

Almost the next second, a video call beeped to life on her tablet screen. She patched it through, and a shot of the family in the kitchen greeted them.

“Hey guys!” Tim greeted them, waving. He was sitting on the island next to Cass and Steph, Duke sitting at the island near them and looking up in bemusement. Jason and Damian were in the back of the scene next to Alfred. Jason appeared to be actually helping make dinner, while Damian kept sticking his fingers in the food and Alfred kept pulling his hand away. Tim was also clearly the one making the call; his arm was visible in the forefront of it.

“Hi!”

“How’s your trip so far?”

“Very sunny.” Dick lounged against the back of the couch. “I think this is the first time I’ve felt actual sun on my skin since I lived in California, and I love it. I’m going to spend every moment I can in it. By the time I get back I’m going to look like Damian’s _blood_ brother.”

“I would not be opposed to that,” Damian said, reaching again for the asparagus and barely avoiding getting Alfred’s stirring spoon across his knuckles.

“You sure you’re not part Tamaranean or Kryptonian, Mr. Sunshine?” Steph teased. “Well, if your kid starts flying, we’ll let you know.”

“In the meantime, how is he?” Barbara asked. “Is he doing alright without us?”

They all exchanged looks, and she felt a bolt of foreboding shoot through her.

“There’s kind of a good news, bad news thing going on,” Jason finally said. “Good news, he himself is doing fine, B’s taking care of him right now. Bad news...”

He explained what had happened with Vicki Vale, with Steph and Damian occasionally interrupting and the others listening with grim expressions.

Dick and Barbara looked at each other worriedly.

“We will...do our best,” Cass promised, “to keep him safe.”

“Understatement, Cassandra. We will move heaven if we must — OW! Damn it, Pennyworth!”

“Hands _off_ the asparagus, Master Damian.”

Dick exhaled slightly.

“Well, I trust you guys. I know you’ll do all that you can.”

Barbara silently agreed, but she still felt obligated to say:

“Really though, please take care of him.”

“We will,” Duke promised. “And not just because we’re all aware of how easily you can destroy our livelihoods.”

“Good.”

“We love you guys,” Dick said. “We hope everything goes okay.”

“Same to you.”

After the call ended, she collapsed and exhaled deeply.

“I really do hope everything goes okay.”

“That’s what you have me for.” He squeezed her hand. “Want to get something to eat?”

In retrospect, Barbara decided that room service _olla de carne_ and fried plantains really were better eaten on their balcony, watching the ocean glitter and the sun over the coast turn from white to gold. The air was still warm, the humidity swept away by periodic sea breezes.

“Tomorrow,” she decided, gazing down at the landscape below, “we’re getting out of the hotel.”

“I always did like the way you think.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a setup/filler chapter in a lot of ways, but there /are/ still some important things going on here. ...And also, quite a bit of smut, even for an explicit fic. Hope this tides you all over until things start to get exciting next time.

The morning was much less hot than usual, with a cool breeze whipping in from over the sea. Palm leaves rustled, local women walked up dirt roads into downtown to do their shopping and gossip with each other. Several youths had taken their surfboards down to the water to check what the waves were like on that windy day.

But at the moment, those things were far from the forefront of Barbara’s mind.

They had planned something over breakfast, for before they headed out for the day.

Which was how she had ended up seated on the edge of the bed, legs splayed, gazing down at the man between her legs.

Every muscle in his toned body was apparent, every inch of scarred golden skin was bare. Kneeling, bracing his hands on his thighs, those blue eyes staring up through strands of soft black hair. She rested one hand on his head, ruffling through his hair, before falling to hold his chin up, forcing his head higher to meet her gaze.

“Look at me.”

He did.

“You have something you want to say.” It wasn’t a question.

Dick licked his lips, then took a breath.

“I really like...being between your legs like this,” he said, shoulders shaking a bit. “Kneeling before you. Seeing...”

“Seeing me sitting above you?” she replied. “Or seeing my pussy?”

He nodded, eyes flicking downward. The longing expression on his face sent a spark down to her clit; she could feel what he could see, feel herself growing wet with want.

“May I...taste you?”

She chuckled low in her throat, and watched his pupils dilate. Through his braced arms, she saw his cock, already half-erect, stiffen further.

“Under different circumstances, I’d say yes. But I have something else in mind for you this morning.”

She reached behind her and held it up, teasing. Dark blue, a fat bulb arching up at the back, the body extending seven inches forward, even though they’d discussed the circumstances prior his mouth still fell open when he saw her favorite double-ended dildo. He blinked rapidly several times, his look of surprise turning to excitement making her clit throb.

She spread her thighs a little further apart, leaning back, teasing her pussy lips open with her fingers, nudging the head of the bulb inside herself. She couldn’t help but gasp a bit as her muscles pulled the rest of it in, as it settled in, snugly full inside her cunt.

Dick whimpered slightly.

“No, _you_ don’t get that job today,” she taunted. “You don’t get to have my pussy. _I’m_ fucking _you_.”

He shook a bit as he nodded.

Barbara took a moment to get adjusted, though it was hardly the first time. Then without warning, she seized Dick by the hair, tugging sharply.

“But first, suck my cock.”

He let out a sharp breath, then leaned forward, closing his eyes. Then he licked a long stripe up the length of the dildo, almost caressing it with his tongue.

Her fingers still twisted in his hair, she watched him kneeling before her, watched him as he licked and sucked, mouth gaping open obscenely, his pink tongue drawing slowly along it. Every time he touched it, she felt the other end of it nudging in return against her g-spot, rubbing against her clit.

She felt a bit light-headed.

“Good boy,” she crooned, stroking his hair. “What a good boy. You’re so good at sucking cock, aren’t you?”

His lashes fluttered at the praise.

Then without warning, he took nearly all of it in his mouth and _christ_ , was that the back of his _throat?_ Barbara groaned and threw her head back as the sharpness of it sent a shockwave of pleasure through her.

“Oh, _very_ good boy.”

He hummed around her in satisfaction.

She let him suck her for a few more minutes, then she tugged him back. His lips slipped off with a wet _pop_ ; when he faced her again she saw how swollen and wet they were.

“Stand up.”

He rose to his feet, trying and failing to keep his face neutral, clear eagerness shining through his eyes. He was fully hard now, the tip flushed deep red and all but drooling precum.

She reached behind her again and grabbed a bottle of lube, tossing it to him.

“Get yourself open. And make it look good.”

She said that last sentence just for him, just for her performer. Smiling a bit, he did just as she’d expected and obliged, bending over and reaching behind him with ease. She knew very well how much the hero community _and_ the general public loved to wax poetic about Nightwing’s ass, but it was completely deserving of their praise. The rest of him was all lean muscles, but it was so round and taut and practically begging to be smacked or pinched. Or fucked.

As he bent over, he spread himself, slipping one lube-covered finger into his hole, glancing back at her with what was unmistakably pride.

“Another finger.”

She watched hungrily as he did as he was told, scissoring himself open, blushing and clamping his lip between his teeth in pleasure. As he did, she grabbed a second bottle of lube and poured it over her hand, then began to stroke herself, slicking the dildo’s shaft.

“Will you fuck me now?” he asked breathlessly.

“Are you open enough?”

“More than enough. Please...”

The soft way he pleaded was what undid her.

“Alright. Come here.”

He was over in a heartbeat, crawling up onto her lap. There was such eagerness, and more importantly, trust, in his eyes that she felt a rush of affection along with her arousal.

She gave him a kiss.

“Ready?”

“Yes, god yes.”

“Turn around.”

He maneuvered around with surprising ease until his knees were braced on the bed, on either side of her lap. She couldn’t feel his weight on her legs, but she could see her length rutting up between his ass cheeks, feel it thrusting inside her. She felt it intensely when he lowered himself onto her, dropping his hands onto her knees, his shoulders trembling.

“Dick?”

He didn’t answer at first as he bottomed out.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am.” He twisted his head around to face her, smiling. “It feels really good.”

She couldn’t help but smile too.

“Glad to hear it. Now move.”

The muscles in his body rippled as he fucked himself back onto her; she leaned her upper body weight back into him every time he thrust down. Sharp waves of pleasure rolled through her as his motion affected the bulb inside her too; exacerbated by the sight of him taking the full length of it with each thrust. She reached around and took hold of his cock, stroking him, and he nearly yelled with delight. Already, Barbara was just about at the edge.

“Come when you like,” she told him gently.

Only a few minutes after those words she was coming, shuddering and gasping. He glanced back, not breaking his rhythm, and seeing her like that must’ve done it for him. He thrust his hips down _hard_ , and then his cum was spurting all over her hand.

She waited until he was done, panting hard, before she lifted her hand to his lips. His rough tongue lapped the mess off her fingers, and when it was clean she carefully eased his hips up and off. He flopped bonelessly across the bed and lay there, taking long deep breaths, as she eased the dildo out of herself too. With a quick flick of her wrist, it went sailing through the open bathroom door and clattered into the sink, ready to be cleaned later.

She then crawled across the bed to Dick, lying beside him. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his body flushed, his face covered in sweat, his lips wet. She very gently wrapped her arms around him, then began caressing his skin and hair.

“Are you okay?” she murmured.

He finally turned to face her again, offering her a slightly lopsided grin, love shining in his eyes.

“I’m a little sore, but it’s the good kind of sore,” he promised.

She kissed his temple and held him for a while longer, stroking his hair, leaning into him. Some minutes passed by like that, soft and content.

Then the sound of distant police sirens began to echo from outside the hotel.

 

* * *

 

By the time the two of them had gotten dressed and headed down to the lobby, the local police had already streamed inside. Four men and two women in black uniforms with _Policia_ stamped in white and _Fuerza Pública_ embroidered in yellow, the cops marched through the lobby with intent, earning apprehensive looks from the porters.

One policewoman spotted Dick and Barbara and headed over to them.

“Excuse me,” she said in perfect, accented English, “Are either of you one of the people who called in about receiving death threats?”

The two of them exchanged looks.

“No, ma’am.”

“Well let us know if you stumble across anything.” The policewoman took off her hat to run a calloused hand through her hair. “Anyone may find something, and something would certainly be a great help.”

They waited until she was gone, heading back towards the door, before Barbara said in an undertone:

“I hope we find a lot more than just ‘stumbling across anything.’”

“Well, not to brag or anything, but I _am_ married to the superhero community’s biggest information source, and _was_ trained by the World’s Greatest Detective.”

She smirked at him.

“Oh, I know. I know who you were trained by.”

 

* * *

 

With spit-up all over his formerly-black Armani shirt and bags under his eyes, Bruce reviewed old case files on his laptop while cradling his grandson and enduring Ace’s drooling on his pants.

But even with the unhygienic circumstances, and even with the threat of his ex-girlfriend over his head, Bruce felt about as well as he could.

For Cass was curled up on his right side and Tim on his left, the dog below them whining happily as he kept ruining Bruce’s slacks.

“You tell me it was most likely the cook,” Tim was saying. “But B, Greengrass had better motive. The old man explicitly said no man who was of no background would marry his daughter as long as he lived, and he’d been insulting and putting down Greengrass for a long time, even before he fell for Daphne.”

“Tim, Greengrass’s alibi was rock solid,” Bruce rumbled.

“Yeah, his alibi for midnight that night.” Tim sat up eagerly, pushing his long hair out of his eyes. “But remember how the valet said that he never remembered to change the clocks on Daylight Savings until the day after? So the clock wouldn’t have been broken at midnight, but at eleven. So Greengrass only gave himself an alibi for a hour _after_ the murder was committed!”

“Hmmm.” Bruce couldn’t help but smile. That had been the _exact_ conclusion he’d come to.

“Who are you? Hercule Poirot?”

They both looked at Cass after she said it. She shrugged, smiling a bit herself.

“Barbara read them...with me. She recommended.”

“Huh, and here I was thinking it was more like Miss Scarlet in the library, with the candlestick,” Tim remarked.

Bruce didn’t laugh, but his smile grew slightly.

“I’ll pay a visit to Greengrass tonight on my route through midtown, talk to him some more,” he decided. “The evidence against him is pretty damning at this point.”

Ace made another whining noise, and Bruce obligingly scratched him behind the ears.

“You two can come too, if you have nothing planned.”

The siblings looked at each other, and nodded affirmatively.

“Hmm. What’ll you do in the meantime? Aside from skipping work, Tim.”

“I didn’t skip work,” Tim said indignantly, “I finished all my meetings and your secretary said there was nothing more for me to do. Then Tam practically kicked me out.”

“Your being home...has nothing to do with...the _Wendy The Werewolf Stalker_ marathon on this afternoon?” Cass asked her brother innocently. He turned bright red.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

“Cassandra, can you take care of your nephew? I still have some paperwork to finish up.”

Cass beamed, plucking up the baby, much to his obvious delight.

“Canary is in town. Should meet with her.”

“Yes, that sounds about...wait, why is Canary in town?”

“She’s _from_ Gotham, Bruce,” Tim pointed out.

“And Birds of Prey...are off for two weeks.” Cass kissed her nephew on the head.

“Alright.” Bruce still felt a bit doubtful. He liked Dinah, she was a friend, he didn’t doubt that she was a good godmother, but...

“She won’t be telling you embarrassing or torrid stories, will she?”

“How old do you...think I am?” Cass said a bit incredulously.

He indicated the baby in her arms.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

 

* * *

 

Dick watched as Barbara slathered another layer of sunscreen over her pale arms before finally laying back on her towel, pulling the broad brim of her white sunhat down over her eyes. Her one-piece was white too, making her vibrant hair and cinnamon-colored freckles stand out, as well as the black back of her tablet.

“Security cameras?” he guessed, walking over to where she lay.

“Yeah, they’re interrogating the vics in the Sunset Lounge.”

He lay on his side and propped himself on one arm to look. The fine, golden-brown sand molded itself under his body.

Not twenty feet from where they lay, the wind ruffled the surface of the ocean, the waves lapping lovingly against the shore. The beach was fairly uncrowded, only a handful of Costa Ricans out and about.

“Must be another work day,” he remarked, lifting one hand to his forehead and looking around.

“Not everyone on this island gets to be on vacation.” Her eyes didn’t leave the computer screen for a while longer. “Alright...I’m having the cameras download right onto my tablet, and...there we go. I think I’ll review the footage tonight, maybe hack the police records to see if I can find anything new.”

“I’ll schmooze some more with the vics if that’ll help,” Dick agreed.

“It might.”

“And once they get a suspect —”

“Yeah. But in the meantime...” She adjusted her prescription sunglasses, and while she did, Dick plucked up her tablet.

“In the meantime, you’re going to relax. Because you deserve it.”

“And because there’s really not a lot else we can do at the moment.”

“Keeping it real.” He shuffled down onto his back and leaned into her. Silently, she passed him the book of hers he’d been reading, then started one for herself.

The pages fluttered in the wind.

The book was good, but he couldn’t quite focus all of his attention on it. He noticed too the cool breeze and sugary sand on his skin, the rhythm of the waves, the distant chattering in Spanish, the warmth of Barbara’s body. He inclined his head against her shoulder and glanced up at the other beachgoers, noticing that unlike Americans, all they had brought with them were drinks and, occasionally, their own surfboards. They talked easily amongst each other, their flowing conversations filling the background right along with the murmuring of the water and the rustling of nearby vegetation.

“This is so strange.”

He glanced over at her, surprised.

“For one thing, this small town and all this nature are strange after living in cities my whole life. But for another, this place...it’s so beautiful.” She glanced up through her sunglasses. “I can hardly believe that it’s real.”

Dick knew that that was a prominent personality trait of hers. It was beauty that terrified her, it was something being irrevocably good that made her nervous. Because extreme beauty, unlike extreme evil or ugliness, was not something she was as prepared to deal with. She could combat the ugliness.

Whereas he’d always taken a different view. He was perfectly willing to embrace beauty, and he was willing to see beauty and worth in something quote-unquote ugly. To love all of it.

He knew that astonished her too. How much he was willing to love, with so little restraint. How much of himself he was willing to lay on the line.

“I’m lying here right beside you, and I can promise you that this is real.”

She looked at him.

“Are you being metaphorical now, or...?”

“Not intentionally.”

Her smile became a bit dry, but he noticed that she seemed more relaxed after that nonetheless.

“Well, I am glad you’re here, although it’s not like I could’ve missed you, Hunk Wonder. I think those swim trunks of yours must’ve shrunk in the wash.”

“Hey, it could be worse. The night of your bachelorette party, when your friends were dropping you off, Helena tried to slip a handful of Speedos into my suitcase. Claimed she was ‘helping.’”

She drew back, and for a moment he thought she was annoyed with Helena.

“How would that have been worse?”

“That’s the sort of view I like to reserve for only you.” He winked. “That being said, if you want me to wear something like that sometime...”

“Sometime, huh?”

“Probably not today, though.”

“Tease.” She smirked.

He returned the smirk, then leaned back against her shoulder, lifting his book again as she turned her attention back to hers. She leaned against him too, snuggling in a bit.

The wind began to drop; the sound of the waves slowed. The conversation between the other beachgoers became more apparent.

_“¿Has oído esas dos?”_

_“Los americanos. Sin vergüenza.”_

_“Creo que es lindo.”_

_“Tú pensaría que, Maria.”_

 

* * *

 

After a quiet couple hours at the beach, moving through town was quite the change in scenery.

Everything was even brighter and more vivid than when they’d first driven through; even though the majority of the adult population seemed to be at work, downtown Puerto Viejo still had quite a lot of women, kids, and teenagers moving about. A small sidewalk band played an upbeat tune on a cluster of guitars, one of the musicians casting them looks as they went past.

Though she’d put on a sarong, and Dick had put on a shirt, she supposed it was at least partially due to the swimsuits.

“You’re also going to attract attention with your accent,” she said to Dick in an undertone as they moved past a cluster of food stands. “It’s blatantly American, and you don’t pronounce the words properly.”

Dick sighed and threw his hands up exaggeratedly.

“I speak six languages,” he said without a trace of seriousness, “and she nags me about _one_ I haven’t gotten the hang of.”

A nearby middle-aged man seemed to take him at his word.

“Women,” he said sympathetically, patting Dick on the shoulder. “My wife nags me too, I get you.”

Dick gave him an utterly confused look.

“...I was kidding.”

“I know, jokes are the only thing that keep us going when being at home is the worst.”

“What? No. I _like_ being around her.”

“You don’t have to say that just because she’s there.”

Barbara rolled her eyes in disgust at the older man, turning her gaze to a nearby fruit stand. The two women in front of her, the one selling, and the one buying, were having a rapid-fire discussion in Spanish.

_“Do you know why the cops are investigating at that fancy hotel?”_

_“I couldn’t tell you why,”_ the seller replied as she weighed a cluster of lemons. _“But I do know that they think the people here have something to do with it.”_

_“Who here would want to go messing around with the Americans?”_

_“Nobody I can think of. We have a good arrangement: the Americans are our guests, they bring in tourist money, and they don’t mess around with our environment or our businesses. Aside from the occasional Starbucks in San José, which I have to say I’m not opposed to. I’m very fond of their mocha frappuccinos.”_

The second woman finished buying her lemons and bid her a friendly goodbye, and Barbara took her place in line. The fruit seller looked at her and said in English:

“Hello, how may I help you?”

 _“Hello. I’d like to buy some mangoes, if you have some,”_ Barbara said in perfect Spanish. _“Though if not, oranges would be fine too.”_

The seller was taken aback for only a moment.

 _“Good choice. I got some fresh mangoes in just this morning; they’re wonderfully ripe, I promise,”_ she wheedled, like Barbara hadn’t already made up her mind to buy them. She was strongly reminded of a much younger Jason negotiating for a late bedtime, when he was already Robin and going out on patrol anyway.

In the meantime, Dick had managed to give the older man the slip.

“Why did he marry her if he doesn’t like her?” he muttered, sidling in in front of the coconuts. “Makes no sense...”

The fruit seller looked at him, and her subsequent double take lasted much longer than her previous one at Barbara’s Spanish fluency.

“Sir, are you single?” she blurted in English.

Barbara stifled a snort, but Dick just shook his head, visibly cheering up.

_“No, estoy casada.”_

The fruit seller composed herself.

“Ah, I see. And I also see that you’re _not_ perfect. Your pronunciation is atrocious.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Barbara laughed, though not without affection, as the other woman bagged her fruit.

“Are local businesspeople here often as welcoming to Americans as you?” she asked casually, like she hadn’t overhead the earlier conversation.

“ _Sí_. Many of them pride themselves on being welcoming, and ready to talk to anyone. And I should know; in a small town, it’s hard not to know everyone. For instance, I heard from my friend Camila yesterday about an American man in her flower shop asking her brother for something for his wife, it was quite sweet.”

Dick turned peony.

“Camila actually said she wished she could’ve been there. In my experience,” she said shrewdly, “it tends to be the _Americans_ who don’t want to interact with _us_ more than they have to.”

“I believe you,” Barbara said truthfully, accepting the fruit and handing over some money.

“I’m glad you two did want to, though. I hope you have a nice day.”

“You too.”

_“Gracias.”_

They continued on down the street, the greenery arching over the shops and sidewalks ruffling in the breeze, almost impossibly saturated with color. She could still hear the waves from the beach they’d come from.

Barbara got the sudden urge to take his hand. She looked down at her own grip on her chair’s pushrims, then reached up just long enough to place Dick’s hand on her shoulder.

He looked at her in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“We can’t hold hands while I’m moving, so I had to improvise.”

“Oh.” He relaxed. “I didn’t know what you were doing; I know you don’t like to be helped, especially not guided or pushed.”

For some reason, that made her smile.

“No, I wasn’t having you push or guide me. Just, things are especially different for us, but I still I wanted to have you there with me as I go.”

“Now who’s being metaphorical?”

“Not intentionally,” she echoed him from before, still smiling. “Come on, let’s go get some lunch.”

 

* * *

 

“How long are you in Gotham?”

“Just a little over a week, then back to Star. I may have grown up here, but there are so many times I can get mugged, ya know?” Dinah paused. “Plus, I use up plenty of my vacation time on my other work as it is. More on that than on actual vacations, come to think of it.”

It was a dreary day, but Cass didn’t mind. The opaque, overcast gray sky, the humidity that pressed down like a palpable weight, she could easily ignore physical discomfort from the oppressive weather to broken bones and perforated organs.

Even if she couldn’t, she had a tiny child in her arms to take her attention.

“Where will you stay?” Cass inquired as John drooled happily down the front of her t-shirt. “Since you usually...stay at the Clock Tower.”

“With Roy and Lian.” Dinah smiled. “Oh, and I guess your brother too.”

Sweeping her bangs out of her eyes, Dinah swung her long legs out from the park bench; both women turned their attention to the baby.

Even after two months of having him in her life, and seven before that of knowing that he was coming, Cass could still barely believe that someone, even two someones she loved so much, could not only make something so precious, but trust her with him.

Though they had never said it, she knew that her other brothers felt the same way. Though Dinah said it often, the love pouring out from the woman sitting next to her was almost overpowering. It had already been easy to trust and respect her, but now Cass felt an odd sense of kinship between her now too, the kind she knew Steph already felt.

“You guys had better eat these before they melt; they were four bucks each.”

Speaking of Steph. She had returned with three huge ice creams from a nearby vendor, hands full, stickiness running down the waffle cones and over her fingers. As usual, Cass’s heart fluttered to see her.

Steph distributed the salted caramel to Dinah, then sat down with her own, strawberry and rainbow sprinkles. As Cass had no free hands, Steph ate her own ice cream one-handed and extended Cass’s double chocolate right up to her face instead.

She happily ignored what terrible table manners this was and got chocolate all over her face as she ate hands-free. As she did, Steph leaned into her shoulder while John curled up sleepily in her arms. Bliss.

“Di, please tell me while you’re here and Barbara’s not you’ve got loads of interesting stories to tell us about her,” Steph said with her mouth full. Dinah, not noticing that her lipstick had smeared, drew back.

“What? Me? Snitch on my best friend? ...Yes, absolutely. Let me tell you about the time we ended up going on dates with the same guy, while an amateur sorcerer was trying to kill her and we were both stressing over our boyfriends...it’s a great story, it ends with me and Metamorpho going dancing.”

“Never mind.” Steph swallowed. “That sentence _alone_ is wild.”

Dinah needed no more prompting. For a solid hour, the entire time of which John napped, she told stories, which, despite their sheer drama and occasional ridiculousness, were not even slightly exaggerated.

“And so, when she comes up on us, we’d managed to beat Shrike together, but we’re both lying on the floor in agony with some broken bones and contusions each, I nearly got all my hair ripped out and/or my skull crushed, and she says ‘I don’t believe it. My best friend and my boyfriend, running around together behind my back.’ And then he says: ‘It’s okay, Babs. It was only physical.’”

Dinah shook her head at the memory while the younger women laughed.

“Although, actually, it _was_ pretty funny. Especially post near death experience. But I would’ve been happy with just my unfortunate accidental run-in with him in the shower.”

“Yeah, you _say_ it was an unfortunate accident,” Steph said dryly.

“Why were you even...going into Barbara’s shower? Especially while it was running?” Cass asked.

Dinah was spared having to answer by the ice cream vendor’s voice wafting over in the direction.

“Lady, I think y’may be looking for food in the wrong kind of place. Maybe y’want Verlucci’s?”

“Maybe not,” came a different voice. A woman’s, rich and lilting. “I can’t say I like most Italian American food much, even in a high-class establishment like that.”

All three of them turned to look.

The woman’s slender back was to them as she faced the vendor; long, straight hair the color of black coffee flowed over the back of her white silk blouse, which was tucked into her wide faux-leather belt and charcoal slacks. She wore gold-and-emerald bangles on both brown wrists. Her nails were a practical short length, but lacquered the color of pomegranate seeds.

The other two didn’t recognize her yet. But Cass instantly knew the elegant, strong, slightly arrogant way she held herself, and she caught her breath in shock.

“What is it, Cassie?” Steph asked.

“Talia.”

“What?”

“ _Talia_.”

Both sets of blue eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“God.” Dinah sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Damian’s mother? Daughter of Ra’s al Ghul? Has access to the entire ranks of the League of Assassins? Was almost my stepdaughter? _That_ Talia?”

“Yeah.”

“Almost your _stepdaughter —?_ ” Steph pointed at her. “You’re telling _that_ story next.”

Cass glanced back over at Talia, hoping that she wouldn’t turn around and see them. She didn’t, she kept waiting for her vanilla and coffee ice cream, but much to Cass’s concern, she still noticed _recognition_ in the older woman’s stance.

“What the hell is she doing back here anyway?” Dinah wondered. “I thought Ra’s moved his operations out of Gotham after Red Robin kicked his ass.”

“He did.” Steph eyed Talia’s back critically. “And the business she works for doesn’t have any outposts in Gotham either. I do not like the implications of all that.”

Cass’s gaze didn’t falter, but her arms around her nephew tightened, pulling him closer.

“And what’s more, she’s eating ice cream. I don’t like that either. I cannot for the life of me picture any of the al Ghuls — except for the youngest one, obviously — eating ice cream.”

“What did you _think_...they ate?” Cass asked her, still not looking away. “The souls of the guilty?”

“You know what I meant.”

Talia paid for her ice cream and walked away, her casual gait not disguising, at least not to Cass’s eyes, the warrior’s strength still apparent in her body. She sat rigid, staring after her, for almost a minute after the other woman had left.

Then Dinah sighed, making her start.

“You okay there, kid?”

Cass turned back and looked at her.

“Worried.”

Dinah sighed again.

“I’m not usually one to worry, myself, but I can understand where you’re coming from.”

Steph, for once, didn’t say anything. She just rested a hand on Cass’s shoulder. Cass lifted her own and touched her fingers to Stephanie’s, just glad that she was there.

 

* * *

 

Duke didn’t know what he’d expected at Jason’s apartment, but he definitely hadn’t expected it to be so...clean.

Aside from Lian’s drawings cluttering the fridge and Roy dismantling something in the living room, the place was perfectly neat and organized. Even Damian, who Duke had previously considered the tidiest of his new siblings, didn’t keep polished weapons mounted on hooks on the walls, or tea sets lined up in the cupboards, or potted bonsai trees on the shelves. The floor was recently vacuumed. The walls were white, the windows large, allowing for plenty of sunlight. The counters were quartz, both attractive and non-porous, good for cooking, as were the multitude of copper pots hanging above the kitchen island.

“Man, I don’t know Jason _at all,_ ” Duke murmured.

Roy set down the wires he’d been toying with, and walked over to the doorway where Duke stood.

“Y’know, it’s a good thing I don’t really care about my secret identity,” he greeted him nonchalantly, “because you in our apartment in full uniform in the middle of the day is kind of a giveaway.”

“Sorry.” Duke took off his helmet, tucking it under his arm. “I was just on patrol. Actually, I was hoping I could take a quick break from patrol here...? It’s kind of a slow day, I think I can spare an hour.”

“Alright.” Roy ran a calloused hand through long red hair, then stood aside, letting Duke in. His prosthetic gleamed in the dull sunlight; his cutoff jeans and Hawkeye t-shirt were both a bit worn. “But if you’re here to spend your break with Jason, you’re out of luck. He’s got back-to-back jobs this afternoon, and between them he’s picking Lian up from school.”

No sooner had the words come out of his mouth when the elevator behind Duke dinged, and out stepped three women and two small children. John was being carried by Cass, and Lian was riding on Dinah’s shoulders.

“Hi, daddy.”

Roy did a double take.

“I thought Jason...?”

“We told him to just go straight to his next job,” Stephanie explained. She was carrying Lian’s backpack over one shoulder and struggling to get the stroller through the elevator door with the other. “He said to remind you that it’s your turn to do the dishes. We said that you love him too.”

“I’m glad you did,” Roy smirked as everyone walked into the apartment.

As they got close, Duke noticed that John was wearing a tiny Robin t-shirt to go with Cass’s Batman t-shirt, and couldn’t help but smile.

“You having a good time with your cousin, Lian?” he asked her.

“Yeah.” She looked down from her perch. “He doesn’t do much. But I still like him.”

“So do we all,” Duke agreed, reaching up and helping the little girl to the floor.

Dinah flopped down on the couch, then started fanning herself with one of Jason’s books.

“Either I’m getting old, Lian’s getting big, or it’s too hot,” she decided.

“You’re getting old,” Lian said helpfully. Dinah mock-glared at her. Cass and Roy stifled laughs.

“Watch it, missy. I may be old, but I can still kick ass.”

“So you say.”

“Okay.” Roy looked at his daughter. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Jason.”

“If she has, then you definitely have too,” Steph told him.

“Touché.”

Duke smiled a bit more, then he sat down on the couch next to Dinah. The body armor suddenly felt very, very heavy.

“You okay, kiddo?” she asked.

“I think so. I just feel you on the heat thing. Summer in Gotham sucks.”

“Jealous of your oldest brother?”

“...Well I am _now_.”

Steph and Cass sat down on Dinah’s other side. Lian wandered off to the kitchen, and Roy took a place on the coffee table.

“Don’t blame you. Sometimes I miss California.” Roy reached out with his flesh hand and tickled John’s sides, much to the baby’s delight.

“Here,” Steph griped, “we’re stuck with this crap-ass weather, the smog, the humidity with the 90-degree temperatures, plus all the crazy weirdos who live here —”

“Excluding ourselves,” Cass quipped.

Dinah chimed in.

“— while Dick gets actual sun, a clean ocean, pre-hurricane-season tropical weather, and as much time with his wife as his tongue can cope with.”

“ _Dinah!_ ”

“What? Am I wrong?”

“Kids, Dinah!” Roy indicated the kitchen, and the couch. “That being said, I’m pretty sure you can say that shit in front of him as much as you want. He’s only a baby.”

Duke laughed, leaning back against the couch.

“Yeah. Plus all this body armor, and all these criminals...summer days are a bit rough.”

“You’re not having second thoughts about joining us, are you?” Steph asked.

“Not at all.” He paused. “It’s just...kinda hard.”

“It’s extremely hard,” Dinah corrected, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Even for metahumans. There’s no shame in admitting that.”

“Well I know that, but I’m still new, and I really wanna show that I can do this.”

“You do,” Cass said gently, rocking the baby.

“I...”

“Hey, do you know how terrible I’ve been?” Steph said cheerfully. “How many times I’ve fucked up? How many times we’ve _all_ fucked up? You’re doing just fine, Duke.”

He exhaled softly, feeling considerably better.

“Helps having people you love,” Cass added thoughtfully.

“Oh, ain’t that the truth,” Dinah said, smiling.

“And you’ve got one hell of a family,” Roy agreed. “Crazy, weird, dysfunctional —”

“Thank you.”

“— but from what I can see, you guys do love each other. Trust me, if my family can love each other, you can, and we have almost as many issues, and it’s spread out over way fewer people.”

“There’s a reason Babs calls Oliver Batman Lite behind his back,” Steph sniggered, and everyone laughed.

“I just call him Uncle Ollie,” Lian remarked, coming back from the kitchen with Oreos. “And sometimes I also call him a weenie. When he deserves it.”

More laughter.

“For that, Lian, you can have first pick of the Oreos,” Dinah grinned.

“Yeah, but no more than four!” Roy said hurriedly.

Duke couldn’t help but smile again.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I really am glad I’m with you crazy weirdos now.”

“So are we,” Cass agreed. She paused, squinting down at the baby. “That being said...your turn to change his diaper.”

He sighed deeply, but took him from his sister’s arms anyway.

“Yeah...‘really glad’ does not cover diapers.”

The baby looked up at him innocently.

 

* * *

 

“So as far as I can tell, it would make no sense for anyone in Puerto Viejo to screw with the hotel patrons, considering that they welcome tourism, and nobody’s made a move on the small businesses,” Dick concluded, biting off a forkful of ceviche. “ _Especially_ since nobody’s made a move on the small businesses, which I know is big, considering how many of those people are industrialists.”

“Motive is important here,” Barbara agreed, scraping up the last of her rice, beans, and chicken with a bit of tortilla. She frowned at her food as she thought about the case again. “I wish I did know what it was, in the case of the actual perpetrators.”

“Yeah, but in the meantime, what we heard does confirm more that the actual Costa Ricans aren’t involved,” he said optimistically.

“Wish the police realized that.”

He reached across the table and laid his hand across hers; she started, glancing up again.

“They have no definitive proof,” he reassured her. “But you’ll get something. I know you will.”

Barbara felt a rush of warmth in her chest. She didn’t say anything for a minute, but she did squeeze his fingers, running her thumb over his knuckles.

“Me _and_ you, one of the world’s best detectives,” she finally remarked.

“That’s _greatest_ detective to you,” he said, but he was smiling.

She couldn’t help but begin to smile again too.

“Yeah. They don’t stand a chance.”

The waiter, who’d been coming over with their check, looked at them and chuckled knowingly, nodding in approval.

 

* * *

 

The walk back to the hotel was starting to blur in his mind as he became caught up in the moment, in the woman perched on his lap. They kissed long and sweet; she caught his lower lip between her teeth, biting slightly, then went back in for another kiss.

One hand caressed over her hair. The other slid down her back, gripping her ass through her swimsuit, squeezing.

She sucked in a breath, then pulled back slightly. A look of intent lit those green eyes, and she gripped him by the shoulders. Then her strong arms flexed, her upper body pushing her groin against his; through the thin fabric of their swimsuits he could easily feel her rubbing against him. His cock stiffened, straining against the fabric; the friction increased by the layers between them.

She ground down hard on him; even through the swimsuits he could feel that she was getting wet, with every slow drag of her hips his nerve endings burned. He could feel her hands on his shoulders, powerful as clamps, and when he looked down at her arms he could see her muscles bunch and flex.

Another spark pulsed through his groin. He kissed her again, pulling her even closer.

“Do you know how much I love you?” she said hoarsely. Their faces were so close their noses almost touched. He could’ve counted every freckle. “My friend. My husband. Father of my child.”

He was so overcome that for once, he couldn’t speak. Hands shaking, he undid the tie of her swimsuit, carefully rolling it down to her waist.

She leaned back a bit, taking her own breasts in hand, squeezing slightly, pinching her nipples. He felt acutely how hard he was as he watched her, aching with want; one little strand of red hair curled around her rolling fingers.

He reached out, intending to replace her hands with his.

She gently, but firmly, caught him by the wrists.

Instead, she slid deliberately to the floor, taking her swimsuit all the way off and pushing his knees apart.

Her eyes flicked up, meeting his.

“Tell me if you want me to.”

“I —” He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

She hooked her fingers over the edge of his swim trunks and yanked them down. Sparing only a moment to take a breath, she wrapped her hand around the base of his erection and her lips around the tip.

Her rough tongue felt impossibly good as she lapped at the head, her mouth hot and wet. Her hand kept stroking his base as she laved at him; he vaguely felt his hips buck slightly into her mouth, but mostly felt _her_ , felt his nerves burning.

She made direct eye contact. Then pulled off, drawing her tongue along his swollen, reddened head so that he could see her, see the precum smearing on her lips.

“Oh god, Barbara...”

She kept looking at him as she took him back in her mouth. He could feel his cock pulsing, flushed with heat, his nerves beating; he braced himself on his hands and tilted his head back and groaned in delight as she flicked her tongue along him.

Then she took more of him in her mouth, her lips pressing against him. Almost at the same time, he felt her hand move to fondle his balls as she sucked and retracted, sucked and retracted, and waves of hot pleasure rolled through his body.

He felt the pressure begin to build in him; he panted roughly and reached one hand down and gently cupped the back of her head, almost stroking.

She pulled back to suck at the head, drawing her tongue back along the pulsing nerves; the pressure burst and he came with a shudder and a long drawn-out groan.

She sucked and swallowed it all up before she finally sat back, licking her wet lips, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and smiling in a rather smug, satisfied kind of way.

Dick drew his hand through his hair and just looked at her, feeling his expression soften.

“Want me to return the favor?” he offered after a moment.

Her expression softened too.

“It’s okay.” She nodded to her vibrator lying on the nightstand. “I’ll take care of it, you go shower.”

He stood a bit shakily, then bent down again to kiss her forehead.

“I love you so much too,” he murmured. She hummed softly. “Also, I know you want to take care of it by yourself now, but I do intend to return the favor soon.”

She glanced up, meeting his eyes again.

“Well. That does give me something to think about while I’m taking care of it.”

He grinned for a moment, then walked to the bathroom, for the moment feeling almost totally content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, all of Dinah’s stories did actually happen in canon. Comics are wild.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel obligated to offer a warning here for mentions of past sexual assault, infertility, and racist sentiment. None of it is explicit in the least, but just so you all know. 
> 
> I also feel obligated to discuss Talia. Her character can be hard to pin down, especially since it’s been butchered so many times. For what it’s worth, I do not accept the very OOC ideas of her being a rapist or a child murderer, and I believe that she genuinely loves and cares for Bruce, Damian, and even Jason — but it’s also important to understand that she manipulated Jason and contributed to the awful experience that was Damian’s childhood. She believed she was doing the right thing, but she was still wrong.
> 
> Anyway, her character is very nuanced and interesting, and I hope I do okay. Here goes.
> 
> (And on a side note, while I was writing this I imagined Evie O’Donoghue looking and sounding a lot like Ruth Negga.)

Barbara woke up to the smell and sight of fresh coffee on the nightstand, and kisses against her neck.

Her eyes fluttered open as golden tropical light poured through the huge windows, as Dick’s lips moved from her cheek to just below her jaw, down along the delicate skin.

“What’re y’doin’?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Surprising you. You surprised?”

“I’m surprised you brushed your teeth this time.”

“I can take care of myself sometimes, you know.”

“Evidence says otherwise.”

“Rude,” he huffed. His breath was hot against her skin; she shivered a bit. “And after I bought you room service coffee.”

“Yeah, with your father’s money.” She stretched her arms lazily, arching upwards, and as she did, his head moved down. One hand braced itself gently against her ribcage, he nuzzled against her collarbone. No breeze came through the room, but she shivered again.

Then the hand slipped up and cupped her breast. She sucked in a breath.

“So that’s what you’re up to.”

“Among other things.”

Bowing his head, he turned his attention to her other breast. For a moment, he just looked, blue eyes soft, before catching her nipple between his lips.

She gasped.

For a couple minutes, he lazily lapped and kneaded it between his lips, rolling and stroking the other with a gentle touch. He needed nothing more; they were so much more sensitive now, every touch making her shudder. He gave her a slight pinch, and a spark shot down to her clit.

She yelped and moaned.

He looked up, suddenly looking concerned.

“Did you pump recently?”

“Last night, before bed.”

“Yeah, but I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Dick —”

“I know it hurts if you go for a while without —”

“You’re not hurting me,” she assured him, propping herself up on her elbows. “It feels really good.”

Dick sighed with relief, his face softening.

“Good, because...” He dropped a kiss to her nipple. “I do love your body. And getting to show that.”

Barbara felt her face heat up.

“Even with the new risks during.”

“That just adds to the appeal.” Another kiss. “The reminder of what a good mother you are to our child.”

The blush intensified until her whole upper body felt warm, turning her head and hiding her mouth behind her hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dick gazing at her flushed chest, fingering her pebbly nipples, still with the utmost gentleness.

“But getting back to what I was saying. I _was_ up to something else too, and I fully intend to get to it.”

Barbara glanced back at him, raising one eyebrow, though she could feel that her blush hadn’t left. He leaned back in, this time pressing a single kiss to the hollow between her breasts, slowly trailing down her chest, kissing the scar-and-stretch-striped expanse of her belly.

She could feel herself begin to get wet, feel the slight pulse of heat to her clit. As she did, she sighed quietly above him, and he smiled against her skin. His hands slipped up to cup her hips, tilting his head to press one last kiss to her bullet scar.

He glanced up, and Barbara nodded to him.

“Go ahead,” she told him, her voice soft.

Still smiling, he moved her thighs open, exposing the rosy folds of her pussy, which he immediately bent towards. He didn’t rush, but instead started taking long, slow licks, and she immediately gasped in pleasure.

Her clit throbbed as he laved at her puffy lower lips, getting steadily wetter under his tongue.

“Dick...” she moaned. “Dick, that’s good, don’t stop...”

He slowly teased her along the sides, flattening his tongue against her clit, dipping the tip inside her. She yelled and grabbed the sheets with both hands.

It was mere minutes before she came with a drawn-out cry, while he lapped her up, eagerly taking every drop.

He looked up at her, and she did her best to meet his eyes. She felt slightly dazed, her eyes hooded, her grip on the sheets beginning to slacken.

“Dick...”

He offered a smug grin before diving back in.

“ _Dick!_ ”

She was _so_ slick now. He turned immediately to her clit, knowing she would be sensitive, running his tongue in circles, pressing against the swollen, reddened nub.

“Fuck!”

He went back to his long, strong licks, just as Barbara began to _really_ cry out above him; picking up the pace, curling his tongue inside her, dragging it up, pressing lightly, suckling at her clit.

Barbara moaned above him, her hands twisting the sheets.

“God, oh god, Dick, you’re so good. God, you’re so good. Don’t stop...”

He clearly had no intention of stopping. He hummed against her, his eyes hooded, almost seeming to glow under her praise. Even lost in the moment the way she was, she still felt so aware of how much he loved her, how much she loved him.

This time when she came, her shout was much louder, almost a sob of delight. He took his time to lap it up, pulling back and looking up at her through his lashes.

She vaguely wondered if she looked as blissed out as she felt, sprawled back, panting. The bed dented as he clambered up to her side again, lying beside her. For a moment she stretched lazily, then eagerly let him wrap his arms around her, kissing his cheek. Everything felt warm, she felt content.

“Coffee’s probably cold by now,” he remarked after a minute.

“I kinda like it cold.” She kissed him again.

“Crazy woman.” His voice was soft with affection.

She sat up just long enough to grab both the mugs. They settled back down into the pillows, drinking their coffee in the pleasant quiet, as the sun slowly lifted itself higher above the island.

It was more than enough.

 

* * *

 

Barbara excused herself around noon to go work out, just after Dick had ducked into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. He finished brushing his teeth and emerged, finding a small note on hotel stationary.

_I should be done and cleaned up by 2 p.m. Come meet me at the gym, we’ll go to lunch._

_Until then._

_All my love,_

_B_

Smiling, he carefully folded the note and tucked it into his pocket.

Humming an upbeat song he’d been singing in the shower, he headed out to the elevator, making a beeline for the tenth floor, for the Sunset Lounge.

Even though it had been two days since the death threat recipients had been interviewed there by the cops, the Sunset Lounge was still a popular spot for the hotel patrons to day drink and gossip. When Dick walked inside, it was already occupied by fifteen people, nine of whom were men.

They’d all been caught by Barbara’s surveillance footage as having been interviewed by the local cops. All of them, and all their compatriots, had offered up their death threats as evidence, all had been eager to embrace Kim Princely’s theory of it being a local, but none of them had actually had a look at the people slipping them those notes.

Most of the men were Bruce’s age or a few years older. Only one of them looked about Dick’s age. The women, on the other hand, ranged from their late thirties to their mid-twenties.

They all greeted him enthusiastically, though.

“Richard!”

The first man approached him in a cloud of aftershave, his overly-tanned face shining below a solid swoop of gray hair.

“Sam Marcus,” he greeted him. “But you know that. Old Bruce must’ve mentioned me to you a few times, eh?”

“Building contractor, right?”

Marcus looked delighted.

“Indeed. Business lies in building. In industry.” He made a sweeping, expansive gesture. “Just ask anyone in this room.”

There was a murmur of assent. One of the women lifted her mimosa in a toast.

“I wouldn’t know,” Dick replied. “I was never cut out for business...I greatly admire the patience and dedication it would’ve taken all of you to get so far within.”

Marcus wrapped his arm around his shoulders, shaking him slightly. The woman with the mimosa eyed him almost hungrily.

“Modest,” chuckled a different woman. Of them all, her blond hair and tan were the only ones that looked natural. “And _too_ kind.”

“Too modest,” Marcus chuckled. “Sit down, son. Tell us about yourself.”

Dick did so. In his jeans and Superman t-shirt, he stood out quite a bit from the other patrons, who all looked like they’d sprung from a Brooks Brothers catalogue.

“Well, I grew up in a circus before Bruce took me in. Then I grew up with him. I went to Gotham Academy for high school, then took a few years to work in San Francisco —”

A waiter appeared at his side with a drinks menu.

“— Bellini, please. Anyway, then I moved to Bludhaven and became a cop —”

“No, dear,” interrupted one of the older women. “Sam means, tell us about you.”

He saw the true meaning of the request in her eyes:

_Tell us about how close you are to Bruce. Tell us about how much you love your lifestyle. How grateful you are._

_Well, I_ do _love my lifestyle._

“I have a lot of really good friends,” he said, smiling. “I love my brothers, my sister, my job...” _Jobs_ , plural. “...I’ve carried on with acrobatics in my spare time, and I confess, I have a _lot_ of admiration for superheroes. But you probably could’ve guessed that — thank you,” he said to the waiter, who’d arrived with his Bellini.

The others looked disappointed.

“Don’t you have a trust fund? Dear, if you do, why don’t you use it?”

“I already have everything I need,” he said with perfect honesty, still smiling beatifically.

As he’d expected, they grew bored with his answers, and the conversation turned away from him, and back to themselves. As they talked, he took small sips of his drink, and listened carefully.

“So you didn’t hear this from me,” said the woman with the mimosa, smiling in a rather satisfied way, “but I’m told that the local police finally have a lead on who’s been sending the people here death threats.”

“Really?” inquired a paunchy man with a bald patch the size of a tea saucer. Dick pretended to be engaged with the view out the nearest window.

“Yes. They’ve matched the handwriting.”

“How?”

“Apparently, each of the different handwritings have been matched with one of the locals. All of whom own businesses or land around or near here,” she finished with relish.

“So won’t those businesses go bankrupt if it does turn out to be them?” the youngest man asked. “And what’ll happen to the land?”

“Who cares?” she said, sniffing. “Serves them right for thinking they can threaten us.”

“Uppity locals.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“At least they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

“Would’ve happened more quickly back home, though.”

“Yes. That reminds me...”

The conversation turned back around to idle gossip after that, but Dick hardly heard a word. After almost half an hour of it, he abruptly got to his feet.

They finally noticed him again.

“Richard, don’t leave,” Marcus protested lightly.

“Hate to,” he lied, “but I just remembered that I haven’t exercised at _all_ today. You know. So if anyone needs me, I’ll be at the gym.”

“But Richard,” purred that woman, setting down her mimosa, sauntering over to him, “I really doubt you need it any more at this point. You already look _just_ fine.”

There was definitely hunger in her eyes. Dick swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry, but his smile didn’t budge.

“I’m sorry. I really should go.”

He left as quickly as he could short of vaulting over the furniture, feeling all of their eyes darting into his back.

 

* * *

 

Barbara finally set the barbell back down, slipping out from under it to sit up, wiping her forehead with a towel. Her tank top was plastered to her body; she could almost feel all those shy glances from that teenage girl on a treadmill across the way.

“So ye were the one what initiated things with your boyfriend again?” the woman beside her inquired. She had been doing yoga poses on a nearby mat before taking a break to get some water and chat — a break that had now lasted twenty minutes.

“Yeah, I felt guilty, I guess.” Barbara took a swig from her own water bottle. “More importantly, I had been missing him almost constantly since the breakup.”

“Well, how well has it been going since then?”

“I dunno, did you not catch that in the restaurant the other day, Evie?”

Evie actually ducked her head and smiled sheepishly. With her dark eyes, warm brown skin, and delicate features, she really was very lovely, even sweaty and with her black curls in disarray.

“All I heard was what ye said to your ex, the blond guy,” she promised. “And then I told ye about everything that happened with my boyfriend, didn’t I?”

“True. Okay, well...it went okay for the first couple months. We took it slow, things were going well, his family accepted it for the most part. Quiet, you know?”

“That does sound okay,” she said slowly. She tilted her head to the side. “But then what happened?”

Barbara paused, wondering if she should really trust this woman with something so personal. Evie took another sip of water.

“Then he got me pregnant.”

Evie choked on her water.

“That explains a lot,” came a soft murmur from the girl on the treadmill.

Evie wiped her mouth and goggled at her.

“What did ye do?”

_What did I do... with my relationship, or with tracking down, finding proof against, and defeating a dangerous, homicidal hacker over those seven months?_

“To make a long, _long_ story, like a novel-length story, short, we became a lot closer over the next several months, and the whole family — his and mine — became closer and better too.” She couldn’t help but smile, then murmured to herself: “And what’s more, after that was all done, I got my baby out of it.”

“Your _WHAT?_ ”

Both women whipped around in the direction of the shout. The girl yelped, stumbled, and nearly slipped off her treadmill.

Jason, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and having evidently just walked in, stood before her, gaping in shock. Barbara stared back, feeling her face heat up.

Evidently, she had not murmured as quietly as she’d thought.

Evie looked back and forth between the two of them, then began to stare very deliberately off to the side, resting her mouth behind her hand.

“You...you have a baby?”

Barbara grimaced.

 

* * *

 

Not for the first time, Damian had insisted on being the one to put his nephew down for a nap. The crib had been set up in Dick’s childhood bedroom, which still had worn posters on the walls, a blue quilt patterned with yellow stars on the bed, and glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers on the ceiling, which miraculously still had a little glow to them. As he walked past the biggest poster, which featured a beaming Superman and a _Metropolis Welcomes You!_ legend, along with a faded Sharpie autograph from Clark himself, John began to make snuffling noises in Damian’s arms.

“Yes, _habibi_ , I know.”

He made sure that all the plushies were in place, before laying the baby down among them. As John settled down, yawning and twitching his tiny fingers, Damian rested his forearms against the edge of the crib and gazed at his nephew.

Some minutes passed by without him noticing.

“He’s not gonna fall asleep faster if you hang around, you know.”

Damian started, then turned and made eye contact with Tim, of all people. His brother, in red flannel and jeans, his shaggy black hair tied up in a small ponytail, gave Damian a tiny smirk, before glancing down at the baby and softening.

“So why are _you_ hanging around, Drake?”

Tim shrugged, not taking his eyes off John. The baby was just about asleep at that point, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Alfred wants you to come back down for lunch. Besides, I like him too.” He approached until he was standing at Damian’s side, both of them looking over the crib. “Can you believe he’s such a complicated person that grew inside another person? He’s like a wetware computer, or all the elements that came out of the Big Bang.”

“Drake, you worry me. Also, you should be grateful Todd’s not here, otherwise he’d have some revolting joke to make about your second choice of similes.”

“Oh crap.” Tim looked like he hadn’t even thought of that.

“Yes, I’m the only one with foresight. Yet another reason why I’m the only one who should be allowed to babysit.”

“Right, they’re gonna let the infant only be watched by the toddler, the littlest and shortest of us, the one who was in diapers just last week —”

“I am the same height Father was at my age!”

“Wow, it’s so cute that you actually believe that.”

Damian tried to cuff him; Tim ducked out of the way, laughing. The baby slept on, unperturbed.

“But seriously, we should go back downstairs.”

Rolling his eyes, he followed his brother back down. The smell of lamb, roasted vegetables, and couscous wafted up the stairs, as did the sound of female voices.

“Is Kyle still here?” he asked, trying not to sound as pleased as he felt.

“Yeah, now she’s full-on hanging out with Dinah and our Batgirls. Roy’s still here too, it’s practically a Walk of Shame party downstairs.”

It was true. Roy still hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on as he lounged about on the couch in his pajama pants, saying something to an embarrassed-and-grumpy-looking Bruce. Duke and Jason sat on the armchairs opposite, reading, pretending not to be eavesdropping.

Over in the kitchen, Selina was dressed opposite to Roy in a short black bathrobe and nothing else. She and Dinah sat on one side of the island, while Cass and Steph sat on the other. Damian noted that his sister was resting her hand over her girlfriend’s, the two of them leaning into each other. He also noticed that Selina’s favorite cat was curled up on Stephanie’s lap, looking very content.

Tim went to go join the other men. Dinah said something behind her hand, and all four women laughed.

“Look who’s back,” Selina remarked as Damian walked into the kitchen. Her short black hair was damp and slightly spiky from the shower, her face unusually bare of makeup. The hands wrapped around her coffee cup were calloused and strong, with long, sharp, dark red nails; her green eyes seemed to glitter. “I think Isis was starting to miss you.”

The cat on Stephanie’s lap seemed to agree; she meowed and jumped down, butting her head against Damian’s ankles. He acquiesced, scooping her up so that she purred in his arms.

“I have never in my life met such a clingy cat,” he huffed, though at the same time he scratched Isis under the chin.

“I know, she’s like Dick,” Steph laughed, leaning into Cass’s shoulder. “I miss him less just being around her.”

Selina chuckled, stroking her hand over Damian’s hair like he was a cat too. He huffed again, but let her do it anyway.

“Those kids,” Dinah said fondly. He noticed absently that she was taller than the other women. Her long blond hair hung loose, and she was wearing tattered jeans and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Her hands were even stronger, and her nails were cut short, good for punching. “Speak for yourself Stephanie, I still miss them.”

“Me too,” Cass agreed, looking wistful. She snuggled into Steph’s shoulder, letting the other girl wrap an arm around her shoulders. Both were in jeans and t-shirts bearing the names of different TV shows: Cass’s _Stranger Things_ , Steph’s _Crazy Ex-Girlfriend_.

Damian said nothing at first, but continued to pet Isis, wondering at their taste.

“I daresay it would not kill you to agree, Master Damian,” remarked Alfred, coming over with plates balanced delicately on trays, Lian riding on his shoulders, and the cat of the same name twining around his ankles, meowing hopefully for food.

“Yeah, except he’s embarrassed to,” Lian said shrewdly.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, child,” he retorted. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Alfred set down enough plates for them, then went off to the living room. The women elapsed back into chatter as they all ate. Lian kept making faces at Damian, which he eventually responded to, quickly devolving into a weird-face competition between the two youngest, which obviously amused the adults.

Half an hour elapsed of good food and female talk. The two cats kept time with their contented purrs, and with Alfred the Cat’s solo attempt to clamber up on the table and eat Stephanie’s lunch.

Then the sound of the baby’s cries began to echo down from upstairs.

“Up already?”

“I’ll go settle him,” Dinah offered, getting to her feet.

“No, Di, it’s my turn,” Steph said quickly.

“I’m the most qualified,” Damian said with dignity as Isis lifted her tail, the tip flicking along under his nose. “I’ll do it.”

“Actually Jason’s turn,” Cass pointed out, “but...I could do it.”

As they debated the subject, Damian noticed that the cries were beginning to taper off, far too quickly.

“It appears Todd actually went and did it,” he observed, feeling a bit let down.

Right then, Jason poked his head through the door.

“Hey, who went and took my turn?” he asked. “Tim, Duke, Roy, Bruce, and I are all accounted for.”

The women stared at him. Lian scratched her head.

“None of _us_ went,” she said. “Maybe he calmed down by himself.”

Jason shook his head.

“No, he never calms down enough to stop crying without someone there to settle him. Never.”

They all looked at each other.

Then everybody at once made a mad dash for the staircase.

Damian’s pulse rang in his ears as he ran, the feet thundering on the stairs and down the hallway in time —

The door to the bedroom was wrenched open, revealing the slender back and long hair of a woman, standing facing the crib. As she turned, it became apparent that she was holding John in her arms, bangles clinking gently around her wrists as she soothed him.

Then she turned around fully, and they saw her face.

Damian’s heart stuttered.

“...Mother?”

 

* * *

 

Dick walked into the gym early to see his wife in workout clothes, the tank top showing off her shoulders and arms while it clung tightly to her chest, her beautiful hair escaping its ponytail. Under different circumstances, that would be a delightful sight...except for the news he had come to tell her, the awkward expression on her face, and that her ex-fiancé’s back was to him.

He recognized the woman by her side, too. She had eavesdropped on them in the restaurant the other day, but moreover, Evelyn O’Donoghue was the heir to the wealthiest airline company in the British Isles. Though mostly, the young woman just looked embarrassed.

“What do you mean you...?” Jason exclaimed. “How did you get a baby?”

“I assume the usual way people get babies.”

For a moment, Dick resisted the urge to laugh.

“Really not helping, Evie,” Barbara muttered.

“But...you never wanted to settle down before. And you always put the conversation off when I brought up having kids. You said when the time was right...was the time right?”

Barbara’s head bowed. Dick’s heart twisted.

Evie looked up and met his gaze, her own eyes growing wide with surprise.

“I suppose we could ask him?” she suggested.

The other two turned and looked at him. He cleared his throat, thinking of the past year, of all the pain and worry and uncertainty, of being afraid he was going to die or lose someone he loved.

“No, the timing was pretty much the opposite of right.”

“Makes sense, if you’d only been back together for two months.”

“ _Two months?_ ”

“Oh, feck.”

The two men were suddenly face-to-face.

“You got her pregnant after being back together for _two months?_ How long were you two broken up in the first place? How long did you leave her alone, and how can you be sure you won’t do it again?”

“Shout a little louder Bard, I don’t think they quite heard you in Miami,” Dick snapped. He knew exactly what the other man was driving at: that he was irresponsible, incompetent, a bad match for Barbara. He also knew he wanted to cut him off before he realized the implications had struck a nerve.

Barbara slapped her hands together once, making everyone jump.

“This isn’t doing anyone any good!” she shouted. “Yes, I accidentally got pregnant. Yes, I decided to keep it, and Dick and I have a child together now. And yes, the timing was terrible and it fucked up my plans, but no, I do not regret it! Evelyn, you can go now.”

Evie did so, looking simultaneously relieved and slightly disappointed.

“Stick to the P.I. work you get hired for, Bard,” Dick said brazenly.

Jason looked like he was going to say something else, but then turned to Barbara instead.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said much more quietly.

“That’s not something you have to do anymore, Jason.”

He jerked back like he’d been slapped. Despite himself, Dick couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him.

Finally, the other man sighed and shook his head, walking back out.

Dick immediately began to regret his attitude, though he also still felt the subject throbbing like an exposed nerve, along with all the eyes from earlier. He walked over, placing his hand over Barbara’s, steadying himself.

She took it.

“Let’s get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Costa Rica from their balcony was just as beautiful in the daytime, she thought.

She gazed down at the land below, the Caribbean Sea sparkling like a hammered sheet of diamond and topaz under the afternoon sunlight. If she watched carefully, she could see the trees of the rainforest far below gently swaying in tandem, matching the water wave for wave.

Dick sat down next to her chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know, all these men wouldn’t look twice at me if I weren’t Bruce’s son.” His voice was unusually bitter. “And these women would, but they don’t take me seriously, they don’t see me as anything but a body. Everyone who was shaking my hand and telling me I have potential, they would’ve been right alongside everyone else at Bruce’s country club.”

She looked at him.

“Did I never tell you about the first time Bruce took me to the country club? I was eleven; it was summer, so I was tanner — darker-skinned. After a while, he had to go meet with some friends, so he gave me some money and said I could do whatever I wanted, being there on his dime. And I did, for an hour or so. Then some lady saw me swimming by myself, and almost immediately called security on me. Nobody believed me when I said I was there with one of the members, especially since I’d apparently been swimming on the side of the pool near that lady’s purse. It wasn’t until Bruce himself came back that they finally believed me.”

Barbara could believe it, but that didn’t stop the anger from forming, even at a story that was sixteen years old.

“Did Bruce yell at them?”

“He ripped right into them.” Dick finally smiled, albeit faintly. “Told them all off for like, twenty minutes straight. And I think he’d like to do something similar to every stranger who’s ever grabbed or pinched me.”

Barbara thought of the Joker, thought of Mirage and Tarantula.

“I think he and I are of the same school of thought.”

He took her hand, reaching for physical comfort, for something to steady him. She intertwined their fingers, stroking her thumb over his knuckles.

_What a couple of big sacks of issues we are._

“Those people wouldn’t know what they were missing,” she said quietly. “You mean so much to me, you know that? You _are_ so much.”

“You’re the one that...” He sighed, pressing her hand to his cheek. “I’m so lucky to be with you.”

 _I wish you hadn’t had to be lucky,_ she thought, suddenly wishing that this, what they had, had been able to happen years ago. That her issues hadn’t been able to stand in their way. Jason, the first serious relationship she’d been the one to end, had just reminded her of that.

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” she assured him, turning in her seat to face him. He looked up, meeting her unblinking gaze. “Believe me.”

 

* * *

 

Tim was certain he was hallucinating at first, that maybe he’d taken LSD instead of his depression meds.

But no. Before them really stood Talia al Ghul. She wore gold jewelry, a wine-red pantsuit, and an elegant, gleaming sword on her hip; her hands cupped the baby in a way that denoted a lot of experience. He was quiet and content in her arms, probably because she smelled slightly of cardamom, Damian’s favorite spice, and her voice had the same slight accent as Damian’s. Black kohl rimmed her green eyes — and so did tiredness.

“You need to update your security system, Beloved,” she greeted Bruce, stroking her fingers over John’s head, parting the soft hair. “It still has so many of the same flaws.”

Bruce just stared at her openmouthed. For a moment, nobody else spoke either.

“Well, fuck me,” said Jason at last, but his voice was unusually flat. “Not literally. I’m not — never mind.”

“Yes, I heard about you and the archer.” She eyed Roy. “I’m not opposed to him taking a man as his lover, but personally, from what I know about you, Harper, I think Jason could do better.”

“So do I,” Roy replied, “but you know how stubborn he is.”

Jason gave him a sharp look. So did Dinah.

“So, are Green Arrow’s associates part of this family now?” Talia inquired, looking at Dinah. The other woman squared her shoulders.

“Jason loves Roy, and Roy is Dick’s friend, Bruce is my friend, and Barbara’s my best friend, so...close enough, I would say.”

“Hmm. Speaking of Grayson, _I_ would say that this child is his.” She looked at John, still gently stroking his head. “He looks just like him. A child of a diaspora — actually, if his mother is who I’m sure she is, a child of _two_. Fitting, considering your heritage and the company you keep, Beloved, and by extension your own heritage, my son.”

Bruce stiffened; Damian jerked back as though slapped, and recovered his voice.

“Mother —” Tim noticed in shock that his brother’s normally dignified (albeit slightly arrogant) voice sounded ragged. “— why are you here? What do you want?”

Talia turned her gaze to Damian.

“I want to help you, my son. I don’t care what happens to Grayson, but I know —” She said the next words as though they tasted bitter, “— you love him, and your father loves him.” She glanced down at John one more time. “And an innocent child doesn’t deserve to lose his parents, no matter how much they’ve been...but that’s beside the point. I want to help you,” she repeated.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Tim challenged.

He felt his heart speed up as Talia looked down at him, her eyes seeming to see every embarrassing or unworthy thing he’d ever done.

“I suppose you don’t, Timothy.”

He could feel the distaste rolling off her. Being Bruce’s adopted kid, he kept him, as far as the al Ghuls were concerned, unjustly tethered. He had defeated her father. He had been her son’s rival for Robin, for Bruce’s love. And sure, sometimes he still wanted to strangle the kid, but nonetheless it cut him deep to see Damian so upset in the face of his own parent.

So he stood firm.

“Fine,” he said, his voice cool, not belying how nervous he felt, “tell us what you have to say. But keep in mind that we don’t have to believe you.”

“Very well.” She shook her hair back, then took a breath —

— her son taking the opportunity to swoop in and snatch the baby from her arms.

Everyone looked at Damian, Talia in surprise.

“ _I_ will hold Grayson’s child,” he said decisively. His voice quavered slightly, but Tim didn’t doubt his determination. He actually felt proud, and even more so when Jason and Cass closed ranks on either side of their brother, practically daring Talia to argue.

But she just sighed.

“Very well,” she said again. Then she straightened, smoothing down the front of her pantsuit, looking up and meeting Bruce’s gaze directly.

“You have to tell Grayson: he needs to leave Costa Rica at once.”

Everyone started again, looking at her in disbelief.

“Why, what’s happening in Costa Rica?” Steph asked.

“Never you mind, girl.”

Steph bristled.

“Why can’t you tell Dick himself?” Tim asked, his voice still cool.

“Because, Timothy, and I’d think this was obvious, he won’t listen to me. He’ll only listen to you all; he hates me.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Dinah muttered sarcastically to Stephanie, both of them rolling their eyes in disgust. Talia’s head snapped to the side, leveling a look at the other women.

“And what of you, Dinah Laurel Lance?” she said with utter disdain. “You think you have room to make judgements, living off more powerful people’s leftovers like a scavenger? Relying on _their_ resources and abilities? Raising _their_ children, because you can’t have any of your own?”

The sudden pain and anger on Dinah’s face was almost palpable, as was the gasp that went up from the others. Roy actually started forward in Talia’s direction.

At the same time, Stephanie leveled a finger at her.

“What’s your problem? You mad ‘cause she fucked your dad?”

Talia’s shoulders stiffened, her hand twitching in the direction of her sword.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tim was surprised again by who spoke next.

“Everybody shut up!” Jason barked, grabbing Roy by the shoulder. “Talia, you’re better than such a low blow. The rest of you, pull yourselves together, assholes. If Dick and Barbara are in trouble, they’re gonna need us.”

Talia visibly stood down, her hand falling away from the direction of her sword.

“Since when do you care about what happens to him, Jason?” she asked.

Tim knew what Jason was thinking: _since we actually started working together and acting like family._ And knew what he would say instead:

“Since if I can save him, I’m going to lord it over him forever.”

Tim couldn’t help but grin. Good old reliable Jason.

Talia looked at Jason with a mixture of confusion and affection, and a more intense version of that same look at Damian. She looked at Steph, Cass, Roy, and Dinah with more distaste. She and Selina stared at each other with an odd, appraising neutrality. Then she finally looked at Bruce with the kind of intense longing that made Tim feel like he shouldn’t be in the room, like he was intruding.

“They shouldn’t be in Costa Rica,” she repeated. “Or they’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

“The crossfire of what?”

Stephanie’s phone suddenly chimed. She whipped it out and checked, Tim catching a glimpse of the local news handles across her Twitter timeline. As she looked, her eyes began to go very wide.

“Guys...?” She looked up. “You’re gonna wanna see this too.”

 

* * *

 

Their escape didn’t last long.

Within a few minutes, there arose a commotion on the floor below that drew both of their attentions, quickly darting out of the suite and down the elevator. Many of the patrons were gathered outside their rooms, murmuring excitedly to each other and chattering on their phones to friends.

“It’s happened,” came Eloise Mercer’s voice, rising above the crowd. “The local police have made their arrests.”

“About time,” huffed a portly man in khaki shorts.

Dick wove through the crowd until he reached Eloise. Her silver hair was loose down her back, she was wearing a long blue dress, and she looked contemplative.

“They made arrests based on matched handwriting alone?” he asked.

She turned to face him, her eyebrows raising.

“Goodness, no. A local business owner confessed on behalf of himself, along with the other local landowners and business owners whose handwriting was matched. Apparently, they really were desperate to get Americans off the island.”

“I see,” Dick said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

He must not have done a very good job of it.

“Why are you upset?” she inquired.

“Um...”

Kim Princely seems to materialize out of nowhere, looking happy.

“The nice policemen said that if they all had the intent, and they were all conspiring together beforehand, they could all be locked up for quite a while,” she reported. “Also, they don’t seem to have juries here. Just three judges per trial who decide things. Isn’t that funny?”

“Yeah, that’s a little strange,” Dick said, carefully stepping out of range of Kim’s hands. “Excuse me please, ladies.”

He ducked back through the stream of people and found Barbara again, as she was being accosted by an MIT undergrad.

“If you’re really interested in computers, I could teach you a few things,” the skinny kid said rather smarmily. “I took a whole semester on coding, you know, so I know a lot of things you may not. For instance, it makes no sense for you to say that you don’t like Java, once you know more about coding you’ll never want to go without it. And I don’t think the way you say you use binary is very practical, you really should —”

She made eye contact with Dick.

“Goodbye, Will.”

The two of them ducked to the side, hiding in the shadows of a potted palm tree. He quickly explained what was going on, watching her expression grow darker with every word.

“The good news is, they can only hold the Costa Ricans so long before they need more concrete evidence or a confession from them personally,” he concluded. “The bad news is, that means whoever framed them has to move quickly now, and within that timeframe I guarantee they’re either going to fabricate evidence or find some way to bully, bribe, or blackmail confessions out of them.”

Barbara gripped his forearms.

“We — and the real perps — only have forty-eight hours from when they were arrested,” she said urgently. “And that was twenty-seven minutes ago.”

“Only forty-eight hours.”

They looked at each other intently.

“Well, we’ve done more impossible things than that,” he decided.

Barbara smiled, a smile that was more like a baring of her teeth.

“Come on. Let’s go do what we do best: get the bad guys and protect the good guys. Together.”

“Oh yeah. This is what marriage is all about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn’t know: the Irish-Americans who left during the famine, and their descendants, are in fact a diaspora, as are the Romani and Jewish people. As Bruce is ethnically Jewish, and I imagine that he and most of his kids would be Jewish practitioners too...fitting for a group of people who were displaced from their original homes and parents, yeah?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally revealed! No smut in this chapter, unfortunately, but it’ll be back right away next time.
> 
> Minor warning for ableist language and some threats of violence, but none that actually happens.

Despite his determination, despite his innate optimism, checking the news from home made things so much worse.

Tim had emailed them both about Talia. About how she had just arrived and wanted them out of the country, how she wouldn’t say why. How she was essentially planning to camp out on one of the Manor’s couches until he and Barbara came home.

But more recently, Steph had emailed him a news article.

For a good twenty seconds, Dick stared numbly at the headline, blinking slowly, almost unable to process the words he was reading:

**Wayne’s Littlest Secret**

_by special correspondent Vicki Vale_

Beneath was a picture of his son, _his son,_ cradled in Stephanie’s arms, while she was flanked on either side by Damian and Jason.

_Two years ago, the discovery of Bruce Wayne’s long-lost biological son, Damian, was thought to be the last shock about the billionaire philanthropist’s extended family. However, this appears to not be the case. Several days ago, Wayne’s son, along with two apparent associates of his, were found to be caring for a small baby, whose identity and origin they refused to disclose, at the same time becoming angry and defensive._

_Wayne is well-known for his sympathy for low-income and immigrant children, as well as his many adopted children, who, coincidentally, are more often than not either of inner-city birth or who are not even from this country. Such may be the case of this most recent child._

_One can easily note that this baby has similar features as Wayne’s children, both adopted and biological, tend to, which raises questions about whether he has a similar background as Damian. Or perhaps he’s adopted from unconventional origins, like the late Jason Todd or his fostered teenager as of two months ago, Duke Thomas._

_However, that this child could pass amongst Wayne’s adopted family might not mean that it’s his child. For instance, Wayne’s cousins, the Kanes, tend to keep their personal lives quiet, most notably Katherine Kane. But it seems the most likely explanation, given his age, that this child is of biological relation not to Wayne himself, but to one of his children..._

_[read more]_

The words finally began to settle into him, leaving a sharp tightness in his throat, and a steadily-building heat that began to rise in his chest like lava.

He must’ve made a some sort of noise, because Barbara looked up from her tablet and at him. Her focused look immediately melted into concern.

“Dick, what’s going on? If this is about Talia —”

He wordlessly thrust his phone in her direction; she took it, reading swiftly. Behind her glasses, her eyes flicked back and forth, growing wide.

“She actually did it,” she said quietly. “She actually — ”

“Turned our child into a news op.” Dick could hear the seething in his voice, but couldn’t stop it. “Intruded on our family’s privacy again, used our son for a story.”

Barbara’s breath shuddered, but her eyes became as sharp as flint.

“I never should’ve said that I’d given birth,” she said, partially to herself. “To _anyone_ outside our circle. God knows the kind of media attention this alone is going to bring, and she doesn’t even have any concrete proof.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of that _jealous, rumormongering_ —” With each word, his voice raised, getting to his feet, starting to pace, “— Just because Bruce didn’t stay with her, she keeps going after our family! First my brother and our identities, now our child! _Our child!_ ” he raged. “She used our child for a fucking _news op!_ ”

He wheeled around and punched the wall.

“ _Dick!_ ”

“And what’s more, Talia!” he shouted. “She shouldn’t be allowed within ten miles of Damian, let alone in the same house as him! I don’t fucking _care_ if she thought she was doing the right thing for him, she made his childhood a living hell! She manipulated Jason, she hates Tim and Cass and probably Duke too, and she’s _in the same house as them and our son_ , why Bruce doesn’t make her leave I have _no goddamn idea_ , I —”

“ _Richard John Grayson!_ ”

Her voice rang through the suite. He froze mid-rant, turning back to face her.

Sitting on the couch, her hands braced on her hips, she glared ferociously. One lock of vibrant red hair spilled over her shoulder and down her white shirt.

“Believe me, I don’t want Talia anywhere near them either, and god knows I don’t want the public and the press abusing our son. But she’s not going anywhere. And we’re supposed to be helping people, and losing your temper won’t help anybody!” She reached out towards him, then gesticulated sharply towards herself. “The family, the Costa Ricans — people need us.”

The anger remained, but the uncontrollable rage drained out of him all at once.

“Barbara, I...I...”

“That being said,” she muttered, glancing back down at the phone, her face twisting up in her own anger, “When we get back home, I’m going to have some very serious words with Bruce about the people he’s slept with.”

 

* * *

 

Cass hadn’t doubted her own place within their family in years now, but even so, she had never taken that place for granted.

Born to one of the greatest, most deadly assassins in the world, sired and raised by another to be a living weapon. Killed a man when she was just a child. Lived on the streets of China’s and America’s various cities for ten years. Was mute and illiterate for most of her life; still spoke haltingly, still could barely write or read. Half-Asian, half-white, and a lesbian to boot. They could’ve expelled her on sight.

But instead, she was — and she knew she was — beloved.

Sometimes she wished her brothers could internalize that they were too.

“Hey, sis.”

She whipped around, catching sight of him: uniformed, but helmetless and unmasked. She had returned home from daytime patrol an hour ago and still didn’t have a scratch on her, but Jason had a new mark — a jagged, oozing cut down through his forehead and eyebrow.

“Glass,” he explained, indicating his face. “Broken bottle. One of my old business partners doesn’t seem to care for me now that I’ve given up the crime lord life. Y’know what really stings is that I used to think that he might’ve actually liked me for more than my money, like Julia Roberts did in _Pretty Woman_. I guess I’m less like Richard Gere and more like an actual hooker’s client — trust me, I’m friends with a few hookers, I know what I’m talking about.”

Cass circumvented her brother’s usual nattering and stepped over to him, taking his wrist. Despite his casual words, his stiff posture radiated pain.

“We go to Alfred,” she decided, beginning to drag him off. He was nine inches taller than her and a hundred pounds heavier, but it still wasn’t difficult.

“C’mon, Cassie —”

“ _Now_.”

“Has Barbie been rubbing off on you?” he asked as they walked into the living room. Alfred had been vacuuming the couch cushions, but he stopped immediately when he saw the two of them. “‘Cause you sounded exactly like her just then.”

Cass smiled proudly at that.

“Oh, good Lord in heaven!”

In a heartbeat, Alfred forced Jason down into an armchair, whipping a first aid kit out of apparently nowhere. Jason grimaced slightly as the old man began sharply applying rubbing alcohol to his cut.

“It’s no big deal, Alfie.”

“My dear boy, believe me when I say that I have been listening to a thousand variations of ‘it’s no big deal, Alfie’ for the last twenty years since your father took up his interest in flying mammals, and in all that time it has never gotten any more convincing.” He prepared a new cotton ball with extra rubbing alcohol and pressed it down firmly.

“Agghhh! You got it in my eye! Hey, that’s what I said last night too.”

“ _Master Jason!_ And Miss Cassandra, stop encouraging him.”

Cass did her best to stop giggling, but was very unsuccessful.

Jason smirked to himself, only grimacing once more when Alfred started dabbing on Neosporin.

“At least I’ll have another badass scar,” he consoled himself. “Guys love scars.”

“Will take your word for it.”

“It was one of the first things Talia taught me,” he assured her. But his posture changed once he said Talia’s name: he became somewhat unsure, yet loving, almost proud. Rather like Damian, though without the tangle of accompanying confusion and sorrow. “Right up there with how to properly stab someone in the heart.”

“Aim long blade up under ribs...at an angle,” Cass recited. In the League of Assassins, it was basic knowledge. Cain had taught her the same, though only as a backup. She’d never needed weapons to kill someone when she had her bare hands. “That way...won’t need to pierce bone. Could also...aim between third and fourth rib...or fourth and fifth rib.”

“That is correct,” Alfred agreed grudgingly, applying a large plaster to the cut while Jason nodded. “Though it disturbs me that Miss Talia felt fit to teach you such things.”

“Wasn’t just her who taught me how to kill,” Jason said, falsely casual. “She had lots of contacts, some of whom were pretty shitty even by my standards. I wouldn’t take back what they taught me, though.”

That made Cass pause, thinking. She already knew she wouldn’t take back what Cain had taught her either, no matter how cruel he’d been about it. She also knew that her loved ones suspected this, that it horrified them, but she stayed firm. She wouldn’t take back being the best, though she’d been treated not like a girl, but like a weapon, because it had led her to being the best in the fight for justice, in doing _good_. That was where she and Jason and even Damian agreed.

But she would take back in a heartbeat being led to kill. And that was where she and her brother would always differ.

“Maybe Bruce still resents that and me for it. But I don’t care. I don’t regret my time between coming back to life and becoming Red Hood.”

Cass shook her head.

“Bruce doesn’t resent you. Never has. Never resented any of us,” she mused out loud. “Except Stephanie. Thought she was endangering herself...endangering Tim. Did a bad job expressing himself. Point is...he loves us. Always loved us. Always forgave us. It is...what he does.” She paused. “She reminded him...of you, actually.”

Both men stared at her. Alfred smiled slightly. Jason barked out a laugh.

“Must be a job knowing what Bruce means and watching him butcher that meaning all the time, huh?”

“No kidding.” She couldn’t help but smile too as relief seeped into Jason’s posture. Even after a year’s worth of reparations, there was still old pain and differences; he still needed to be reminded that Bruce still loved him, just like Tim still needed to be reminded that Dick still loved him. But they could definitely keep doing that, as long as her brothers needed.

“This reminds me. Where is Talia, anyway?” Jason wondered suddenly.

“In the library. She said that she had some private business calls to make,” Alfred informed them, finishing dressing the cut. “And that she wouldn’t return until after dinnertime; she’ll be taking her meal alone.”

“Good news,” Cass said, her mood improving even more.

Then more again as she heard the voice of the woman she loved.

“Hey! Dork Knight! Dad Knight! Furry! Listen to me, asshole!”

All three of them looked around to see Stephanie pursuing Bruce through the door, and that he had a very pained look on his face.

“We are not bothering them, Stephanie,” he was grumbling. “Talia won’t tell us what’s happening, so I can assume it’s under control. They’re adults, they can handle it.”

“You absolutely do _not_ believe that, Captain Control Freak,” she scoffed. “I know you’re dying to find out what’s going on, and then to solve what’s going on. You’re just not listening to my idea because it involves talking to your son like a normal human being, and because _you_ didn’t say it first.”

Bruce grumbled irritably, and Cass knew that Steph was right.

“So what idea of yours is making B look so miserable?” Jason asked. “Because whatever it is, I’m in.”

Steph smirked.

“We’re gonna call Dick and Barbara and find out what they’re getting involved in,” she announced. “We’re gonna compare notes. And we’re gonna fix what’s going on that way.”

“We’re gonna stick our noses in their sex vacation? I changed my mind; hard pass.”

“I would not want sex...with something bad happening,” Cass pointed out.

“Really?” Jason sounded genuinely surprised. “That’s when everyone I know wants sex most.”

“Everyone you know? You mean your... _three_ friends?”

“Uncalled for. Also, in your case, hypocritical,” he retorted.

Alfred cleared his throat, and everyone shut up.

“I suppose that Miss Talia would not like this,” he mused. “I also suppose that the last thing Miss Victoria would want with her stories about us on the line is a united, unassailable family.”

“I suppose.”

“In that case...” Alfred raised his chin. “I propose we go with Miss Stephanie’s idea.”

Steph fist-pumped and whooped.

Cass smiled wider.

 

* * *

 

Puerto Viejo was in shock.

All around them, formerly well-off stores had _Lo Siento — Cerrado_ signs in their windows. The men had lost their cheer, and were walking with their shoulders slumped. Many of the women surrounding them wore expressions of shock or melancholy; even the children seemed subdued.

“If we can’t do this, those businesses and land will be ripe for the taking,” Barbara realized. “Someone could easily sweep in and take them. And we _are_ in a hotel full of industrialists...”

“But how many of them have access to people in such near-metahuman physical condition?” Dick wondered. “Access to good athletes, yeah. But access to that kind of physical ability?”

A seed of suspicion began to grow in Barbara’s mind.

But then she was jolted back to the present by another woman’s voice.

“ _Joder!_ Blaming us for their troubles isn’t enough, now they come show their faces here?”

Standing on the sidewalk with a basket full of flowers at her heels, the woman looked about Barbara’s age; she was petite, almost diminutive, with skin the color of oak wood and her dark hair cut into a curly bob. Her almond-shaped eyes were almost black, and they were narrowed in hostility. Her sundress, a cheerful yellow at odds with her mood, fluttered in the breeze.

Barbara realized that as it had been in English, she’d intended for them to hear.

Dick looked squarely at the woman, then as he recognized her features, his eyes grew wide.

“Are you Camila Santiago?” he called out. “Enrique’s sister?”

Camila folded her arms across her chest, still looking at them with clear disgust.

“My brother was one of the ones arrested an hour ago,” she shouted back. “They took over two dozen of our men in for interrogation, because of you lot!” She tossed back her hair. “One brown person does something bad, and any and all brown people near you get punished for it. That’s how it works in your home country, _sí?_ ”

“She’s not wrong,” Barbara murmured.

Dick held up his hands like he was surrendering.

“Believe me, Camila, I know. And what’s more, we — she and me — don’t think that your men are to blame for what happened in the hotel.”

Camila started, then softened — but only a bit. She cast another suspicious look in Barbara’s direction.

“She doesn’t think that?”

“She doesn’t,” Barbara replied, a slight edge to her voice. Then: “ _Y ella puede hablar para ella misma._ ”

Camila raised her eyebrows, then looked at Barbara one more time, this time like she was reappraising her.

“So I see.” She paused. “So you really don’t blame my brother or my friends?”

“Not in the least,” Dick promised. “They were framed. Kind of clumsily too.”

“It’s only clumsy until whoever’s framing them can fabricate evidence or force confessions out of them.”

“But at the same time, the authorities can only keep them in holding for two days —”

“Which is how long we have until that evidence or false confessions will have to appear.”

Camila’s head had been moving back and forth between the two of them like she was watching a tennis match, and when they were done she tilted her head to the side and said:

“You two sound like cops. Are you cops?”

“He is.” Barbara inclined her head towards her husband. “I was raised by one.”

_Among our other qualifications._

“So does that mean that you’re going to go argue with _our_ cops now?”

“She’s sharp,” Dick murmured. Then out loud: “I am, yes.”

“I’m going to stay in town, see if I can help out here,” Barbara added.

Camila’s shoulders finally relaxed. Her eyes softened, she stooped to pick up her flower basket, and Barbara realized that she was extremely pretty.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say _you_ were a cop too,” she said, almost lightly. Then she pointed at Dick. “You two seem to be trying to do the right thing, and as that’s the case, I’m coming with you. I want to tell them that my brother’s innocent, that he could never have planned murder.”

The couple exchanged looks. It seemed like a bad idea, to have a civilian around. But they both knew a person who’d made up their mind when they saw one.

“Okay,” Dick said. “Camila, you can come with me. Barbara...”

They looked at each other again.

“I’ll see you in a couple hours. Good luck.”

“Same to you, Hunk Wonder,” she said softly.

She would’ve loved to kiss him, but in light of all that was happening, it didn’t feel like the right time. Besides, the idea of showing affection in public seemed like even more potential for negative attention.

So instead she turned and rolled away, leaving the two of them to walk to the police station on their own.

Even in the evening, the air was still warm, the last rays of the sun painting the horizon pomegranate-red and saffron-yellow. Her long green skirt fluttered in the wind. She noticed absently that her white cotton blouse made her hair look brighter, almost as vivid as the sunset.

Barbara was so lost in thought as she moved along that she almost ran right into the trio of hotel patrons.

“Oh! Oh my dear, are you — ah. Oh. It’s you.”

Linda, in her pastel pink dress and enormous white sunglasses, which effectively hid faint crow’s feet, looked truly disdainful as she looked down her nose at Barbara. Flanking her were a pair of interchangeable blondes dressed in blue striped cover-ups and tan sunhats. Diamonds sparkled on all three women’s wrists.

“It’s me,” Barbara replied, struggling to keep her voice neutral and wondering why they needed to wear hats and sunglasses at six in the evening.

“Is Richard around?” the older woman asked hopefully, glancing about as if Dick might spring into existence on cue.

“He left some minutes ago, actually. Sorry to disappoint.”

Linda heaved a big, dramatic sigh, still looking off into the distance and not at Barbara.

“Forgive me for wondering, but I never did catch why he came with _you_.” She put a great deal of emphasis on _you_ , and the younger blondes tittered. “Are you quite alright, or is this a Make-A-Wish situation?”

Barbara silently gritted her teeth.

“We’ve known each other for twelve years. Is it so strange now for old friends to travel together?”

“Only if the friends are so...mismatched. Someone so free-spirited, I would hate for him to be shackled, confined, tied down...oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of such a cruel reality.”

“Hardly cruel.” She bit off the words. “Why did you want to see him, anyway?”

Linda smirked.

“Well, tomorrow night at eight o’clock, there’s a little party happening in the Crystal Ballroom. I would love for him to attend; everybody at the Magnifico who’s anybody is going. And don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll tell you all about what happens...if I ever give him back. He’s _such_ a sweet boy, I don’t know if anyone could.”

“If you think you’re ever going to get a hold on him in the first place, especially with your  _charming_ personality, you’re even farther removed from common sense than that outfit.”

All three of the other women fell silent in unison.

“What exactly do you think you’re saying?” Linda’s voice was nothing but a frosty whisper.

Barbara smiled grimly.

“I’m think I’m saying: give it up, Dick’s not into archaeology.”

One of the blondes clapped her hand to her mouth. The other grimaced.

Linda gasped in fury and indignation.

“Why, you little crippled bitch.”

The grim smile didn’t drop.

“You know what’s amazing? It’s that after all these years, people who call me that still think they’re being original.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Get lost, and please, next time when you try to pass as thirty-something to rich young men, keep in mind there’s only a finite supply of Vaseline in the world.”

Linda raised her hand, presumably to slap her, but Barbara caught her by the thin wrist with no effort. For a few seconds, they stared each other down, one woman glaring while the other smirked.

“Fine!” She finally jerked her hand free. “I wouldn’t have you come to our party if you paid me.”

“Wouldn’t want an invitation from you lot anyway.”

Linda stalked off with her sycophants at her heels, pausing to call over her shoulder:

“Why Bruce puts up with you little monsters I have no idea. I’m glad you and all that riffraff are going to miss our party, and _Lex Luthor_ is going to be there!”

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to make me upset?”

But no sooner had the words left her mouth when the seed of suspicion from earlier began to grow further.

_Lex Luthor..._

She sat there for a good ten seconds, processing.

And then she wheeled around. Before she did anything, there were some people she had to find, and to persuade to give the arrested men’s alibis to the police.

 

* * *

 

Dick sat by the holding cells with Camila at his side, waiting for an officer to get back. Even though it was just a town, the Puerto Viejo cells were considerably better than the ones in Bludhaven, although the two dozen men congregated within them didn’t look any less bored or anxious than the people he’d had detained in his own precinct.

The men in the cells varied from their late twenties to early sixties, although judging by their clothes and how well-groomed they were, and by the fact they could all sustain land and businesses, they were all at least middle-class.

Enrique was in the cell right next to where they were sitting.

“I cannot believe you’re here,” he murmured.

“Of course I’m here, _idiota!_ I’m your sister!”

“Not you, him. Grayson, why are you here helping us? You don’t even know most of us, and we only met once.”

Dick turned until he faced him. He realized that several of the other men were listening, visibly intrigued.

“I couldn’t let any of you be framed for something you didn’t do,” he explained. “Collusion, attempted murder, intent to commit murder; you could be in prison for at least a decade. Someone wants you all out of the way...and I want that stopped.”

A few seconds of dramatic pause went by.

“Wait. _Mierda_. Grayson?” another man said suddenly. “Enrique, is this...what did you say he was... _el hombre americano cursi?_ ”

“Yeah, Enrique, you said his name was Grayson.”

“He definitely did.”

Dick glanced around at them, then looked back at Enrique, who now looked slightly embarrassed.

“‘The sappy American guy,’ huh?”

“You can’t deny that you are,” he pointed out.

“I mean, fair, but —”

Camila’s sudden hiss of swearing cut him off; he wheeled around.

For a fleeting moment, he was reminded of Damian might look like as an adult. The man who’d come through the door was tall and broad-shouldered, with thick dark brows, copper-brown skin, and a mane of heavy black hair. But his eyes were black too instead of Damian’s green, his jaw was blockier, his nose broader, and one of his scars cut through his left eyebrow.

_A scar through the left eyebrow._

Kim Princely’s description of her attacker came back to him in a flash.

The man dusted off his linen shirt and faced the room. Almost lazily, he drew a dagger from thin air, a beautiful curved dagger of Damascus steel, twin to the one Dick had found in Kim’s room.

“The cops won’t be back for twenty minutes,” he said. His voice also reminded Dick of his youngest brother; the two had the same accent, though this man’s was thicker. “You all —” He gestured with his free hand to the men in the cells, “— I have a lot to discuss with. But first, you two —”

This time he gestured with the dagger. Right at Dick, and at Camila.

“— you two are going to step outside with me, quickly and quietly. Do not struggle or scream. I would prefer not to kill you in here; it will be much messier, and much more painful.”

He chuckled nastily. Camila balled her fists and glared viciously, defiant nonetheless.

Dick’s back straightened; his shoulders stiffened.

But Enrique cried out,

“No! _No es mi hermana!_ She’s not a part of this! Neither of them are! _Por favor,_ anything else you want, anything — ”

“You have nothing to offer me that could make me change my mind.” He pointed at Enrique. “Unless you want to spare me some time and swear to confess to the death threats, and to plotting to kill the Americans.”

“Enrique, don’t you fucking dare. He’s going to kill me anyway. If you give him what he wants, I swear to Virgin María, the saints, and God Himself that I will haunt your kitchen cabinets until the day you die,” Camila snarled.

“He’s not going to kill you.”

Everybody looked at Dick at the same time. He got to his feet, clearing his throat.

“He’s not going to kill Camila, and he’s not going to get what he wants.”

The man was surprised only for a moment. Then he tossed back his head and laughed wholeheartedly.

“And how are you going to stop me, _rajul saghir?_ ”

Dick smiled unpleasantly.

The man’s laughter faltered.

Dick sprang; he landed on his hands and kicked out. The dagger went flying.

The man aimed a punch, Dick ducked, sweeping low, his fist connecting under his opponent’s diaphragm.

While he staggered, Dick jumped back up, backhanding him so hard his head swung almost all the way around, then punched.

The big man was floored in a heartbeat, in another, Dick stood with one foot on his right wrist, the other resting lightly over his windpipe.

“You must be new to the League, huh? Probably haven’t even finished training yet.”

The assassin looked up at him with equal measures of astonishment and hate. From the holding cells, utter silence.

“Not difficult to guess that you’re one of the League. Your master isn’t going to be happy to find you’re working for someone who’ll tear up this island for profits.”

“Master...doesn’t have to know if I want a little extra profit,” the assassin groaned. “I’m not the only one, either.”

“So I figured.”

Dick crouched, careful to keep the pressure on the wrist, not on the windpipe. He didn’t need to threaten him. Yet.

“But also, honestly, I think you’re all underestimating your master. Now look. This is how it’s going to work: you’re going to do as I say — and you’re going to do as a lady very dear to my heart says. And you had better not underestimate me again, or her. Or your master is definitely going to have to know what you’ve been up to.”

“You’re bluffing. You won’t be able to get any messages to anyone he knows, you’re just a rich pretty boy.”

“Yeah, I am.” Dick’s unpleasant smile returned. “But I’m a rich pretty boy from Gotham City. My father’s a man of Gotham too, born and bred, and he’s got lots of contacts. Lots of mysterious contacts, way above your pay grade. That not enough? If it’s not...there are two more. One more powerful man of Gotham and a smaller associate of his...both of whom your master happens to know very well.”

It took him a second to realize. Then the assassin’s eyes bugged out in terror.

“That’s right. You know who they are.”

Dick hopped off. The other man scrambled to his feet, looking at Dick like he was seeing him for the first time.

“My lady will find you and contact you later. Until then...”

The man sheathed his dagger and almost sprinted out the door, just brushing past a Costa Rican cop, who shot the retreating back a bemused look.

_“¿Quién fue?”_

“No idea, officer,” Dick said pleasantly. He glanced behind him and almost laughed.

The men in the holding cells all gaped at him as one, their eyes round as moons. Camila looked astonished and more than a little incredulous.

 _What the hell was that?_ she mouthed.

 _Bluffing,_ he mouthed back.

_Bluffing!?_

_And gymnastics and martial arts. We rich people are crazy._

But when he turned back to the puzzled cop, he became serious again.

“Officer...there’s something Señorita Santiago and I need to talk to you about.”

 

* * *

 

Linda Fridlington wasn’t the only unexpected presence Barbara encountered in town.

As she was just saying her last goodbyes and “gracias” to the wife of a landowner, as the other woman was turning and heading back into her house, she heard a different voice floating over from a nearby cafe.

“No, not yet Miss Head...wait, why do you want to know if they’re still there? Um, okay. Well, they’re still there. Yeah. And is that bad?”

Despite herself, Barbara was curious. She drifted closer, apprehensively listening to Jason talk.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you and Mr. Luthor were at odds about that. Ah. I see.”

Luthor again...and so Miss Head is...her. But Luthor...

“You think he went behind your back? Oh. Wait, is that what you really wanted to know? You might’ve told me, ma’am.”

Barbara didn’t hear the replying voice on the other end. But she knew who it was.

“I see. What do you want me to do now, Miss Head? I don’t know if I can stop Mr. Luthor, even if he did go behind yours and your father’s backs for your family’s employees.”

Right then, all the pieces clicked into place at once.

Barbara _knew_. She _knew_ what had happened. What was happening now.

“Well, if all you wanted to do was know for sure, Miss Head, that’s fine. Alright. I’ll fly back to Gotham in two days. Thanks again for the boarding pass.”

In the next moment, she rolled into the shade of a souvenir stand, her hand pulling up and back through her hair, breathing hard.

 _Talia. It was_ Talia _. Talia hired Jason. And I know why she did...and I know why she wants me and Dick off the island._

I know everything now.

“I have to tell Dick,” she whispered to herself. “If I’m right, and I know I am, there’s no way we can leave now.”

“Who’s Dick?” the old man running the souvenir stand inquired softly. “Lover of yours?”

“He’s got to know.”

“Well, if he’s your lover, then of course he has.”

“I have to find him,” she said, a bit louder. “I know what’s going on — but I think I know how to make things right.”

“That’s the spirit, _cariña,_ ” the old man murmured sleepily.

 

* * *

 

Bruce couldn’t deny the warmth that rushed through him when the call picked up, and the first thing he saw was his eldest’s familiar blue gaze.

“Dick,” he breathed out, “are you alright?”

Dick was sitting on a truly massive-looking bed, with a stack of fluffy white pillows propped up behind him. Despite his smile, the furrow in his brow and faraway look in his eyes indicated that he was thinking, processing.

“I’m fine, B.”

“That shirt’s not,” Damian muttered. Some of the tension from the last few hours visibly fell from Damian’s shoulders as he saw his oldest brother. “Really Grayson, you _are_ hopeless without me.”

Dick glanced down at the shirt in question and actually laughed a bit. It was sapphire-blue and patterned with pineapples, and honestly, not even near the worst thing he had ever worn.

“I miss you too, Dami,” he said fondly.

From where he was looming over Bruce’s other shoulder, Jason cleared his throat.

“Uh, hate to break up the tearful reunion, but where’s the missus? We kinda need to talk to her too.”

“You can just ask me yourself, Jason.”

The camera pivoted to face Barbara. She was half-reclining on the other side of a truly grand bed, fortunately fully clothed, her glasses slipped to the bridge of her nose. A look of determination, the kind of look that over the years he’d grown very familiar with, had lit her eyes.

Bruce cleared his throat.

“To start with, you two are obviously in danger,” he said bluntly. “Talia —”

“— is planning to sabotage, and probably violently sabotage, her boss’s operations in Costa Rica because he went behind her back to hire her father’s assassins.”

Everyone stared at Barbara. Only Dick didn’t look shocked.

“How do you know that?”

“Deductive reasoning.” She adjusted her glasses. “Plus, she practically told me. Or rather, I know a man who talks louder on the phone than he thinks he does.”

She explained what she had overheard from Jason Bard earlier, and all that had been happening over the last few days.

“Lex Luthor did it, B,” Dick concluded when she was done. “He’s framing Costa Rican landowners and business owners using members of the League of Assassins to deliver death threats, to attack the hotel patrons, and most recently, to try and bully the Costa Ricans into confessing. And I’ll bet anything it’s because he wants to buy that land.”

“And Talia doesn’t want us to be in the way of Luthor’s scheming, or when she inevitably comes here to get revenge; to do some scheming of her own,” Barbara agreed. “Luthor’s an industrialist. There’s no way he won’t tear up half the rainforest in order to build whatever he’s planning to built here, and the al Ghuls hate that.”

“Yeah, it all makes sense! Luthor would’ve had access to the League through his connections with the al Ghuls, and with various solo assassins, and not only Costa Rica is still almost totally untouched by American industry, but the land out here is much cheaper, and much less used, than the land out by the cities. And the League are perfect for a frame-up job: they’re in supreme physical shape, they’re sneaky, in the dark they could pass for islanders — well, to the hotel patrons, anyway.”

“Only if the hotel patrons are total idiots,” Damian muttered.

“Anyway,” Dick continued, “I just caught one of the assassins — a new one — trying to threaten the men in holding, but he failed. Luthor has forty-four hours to try again, and tomorrow he’s coming here in person.”

Almost ten seconds of silence followed their explanation.

“Something doesn’t make sense,” Duke said suddenly. “Why would Luthor try to frame those men in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been simpler to just bully them out of the picture and buy their property? Why involve the Americans at all?”

A beat passed.

“Maybe...” Tim said slowly, “Luthor specifically wanted to make the Costa Ricans look bad.”

“Not just look bad,” said Steph, “but look bad to other Americans.”

“They _are_ rich,” Cass pointed out, “and a lot...are industrialists too.”

“He wanted to get them on his side,” Jason realized. “He wanted them to _support_ him when he started buying and tearing up the island.”

“By god, that’s brilliant,” Damian exclaimed. “For if those powerful enough to protest are still nursing grudges against the locals, they won’t protest. They’ll cheer. They’ll herald it as the supremely capitalist venture that it is.”

“Plus, he probably realized that it would be really easy to influence the Americans’ opinions of the islanders,” Duke agreed, understanding. “And it was, wasn’t it?”

Dick and Barbara both nodded.

Bruce felt almost unbearably proud of all his protégées’ quick thinking and deduction. But at the same time, he still felt anxious thinking of Dick and Barbara on that island, and even more so now that he knew what Luthor and Talia were both up to.

“Talia...” he murmured out loud. “Having her here...”

Something dark snapped in Dick’s eyes at her name.

“Yeah, I’m not crazy about that,” he muttered, an undercurrent of anger in his voice.

Barbara’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“It seems to me like there’s plenty going on at home too.”

“No kidding, it’s a media mess,” Steph groaned. “I went to help Alfred get groceries earlier today and some lady recognized me from that article and asked me if I was the illegitimate mother of one of these guys’ baby. Don’t worry lady, I have never so much as touched any of these guys’ semen, and I never plan to.”

“I’m glad,” Cass said solemnly.

“Right, because instead I’m touching your —”

“ _Please_ don’t finish that sentence,” Tim groaned.

Jason sniggered for a moment, then he looked at his youngest brother and even he sobered up.

“Doesn’t help that Talia kind of hates most of us,” Duke said. He glanced up at Jason and down at Damian, then grimaced sympathetically.

“Mother’s presence...” Damian hesitated. He looked oddly vulnerable. “Only exacerbates the tension.” He sounded almost sad.

Bruce looked back at the screen.

“You two could come home,” he told the pair. “It would probably help things. Now that we know, you don’t have to stay involved. I’d do that; it’ll be easy to expose Luthor now, even from home —”

He didn’t like it, but he was expecting their response when it came.

“No,” they said in unison. Dick’s voice was soft, but his eyes were hard.

“We only have forty-four hours, B. Not only that, but Luthor’s going to be here, in person, by tomorrow.”

“It has to be now, and it has to be us. People’s livelihoods are in danger, _and_ Luthor’s butting his nose into our honeymoon,” Barbara said, her shoulders squared. She paused for a moment. “Besides: I have a plan.”

“Of course you do. You always do.”

“No shit, Grayson,” said Stephanie, finally smiling a bit.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile a bit too, even as he worried.

“I’m proud of you two,” he said, and both their eyes grew wide. “And in the meantime, I promise we’ll protect your son.”

 _And I promise I’ll protect the rest of my family too,_ he vowed silently. _That we’ll protect each other. Because nothing matters more now._

The seemed to pick up on what went unsaid, for they looked at him for a moment, before glancing significantly at each other.

“You had better,” Barbara said after a moment. “Especially now, of all times.”

“Yeah. But really B, everybody —”

“Thanks,” they said in unison.

“For real.”

“You can count on us,” Tim said earnestly.

“Yes.” Damian cleared his throat. “Nothing else matters more now.”

Bruce placed a hand on his youngest’s shoulder.

“Good luck, lovebirds,” Jason said gruffly. “Go kick Luthor’s ass; we’ll worry about Bruce’s ex-girlfriends.”

“Good luck to you guys too.”

Bruce felt, despite himself, hopeful.

Even when Stephanie jabbed him in the ribs and said very loudly:

“I told you so.”

 

* * *

 

After the screen went to black, Dick turned to face her again.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Barbara looked right at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. A hot thrill began to rise in her chest as she thought of what was coming for them, and for their family; anticipation and adrenaline and the prospect of some justice, and some righteous revenge.

“How do you feel about crashing a party?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s a bit long, but it was still satisfying for me to write, so I hope it’ll be satisfying to read as well.
> 
> (And yes, I did base Babs’ outfit here off her look in Batman & Mr. Freeze Subzero.)

Barbara had hacked his cell phone.

It didn’t take very long, only a couple minutes before the face of the man who Dick had cornered in the cells came into view, and he started in fear. Evidently he’d recognized the priestess symbol across his phone screen. She couldn’t help but smirk at that, turning on the voice modulator.

“Farid Nasir, this is Oracle.”

“So I see,” he replied, shifting in place, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know that you knew the Wayne family.”

“I know everybody. Especially everybody in Gotham.”

Nasir cleared his throat again, glancing off to the side.

“But that’s beside the point. Now listen to me. If you don’t want Ra’s to know you’ve been going behind his back, here’s what you’re going to do...”

When she was done explaining, he grimaced.

“You do realize that Luthor’s going to have the rest of my money for this. And I’m going to end up in a Costa Rican cell.”

“Better than Ra’s killing you,” she retorted. “Now, there’s one more thing I need you to say for me, and then, go do it. And if you don’t...believe me, I’ll know. Here’s what I need...”

Nasir said everything that needed to be said, then sighed, getting to his feet to finish what she’d told him to do.

Satisfied, she cut the connection, sitting back against the pillows and exhaling hard. Then she set the tablet aside, picking up the one dress she’d brought with her and running her fingers over the fabric. 

 

* * *

 

 Dick glanced over the top of his coffee cup at the people assembled before him.

As it turned out, being in a small town had its advantages. Camila had been able to quickly spread the word about the plan to get their men free, and she, along with several other women, had assembled within a few hours. He recognized Elena, the fruit seller; Ana, the Magnifico’s front desk clerk; Rosita, a waitress in a nearby cafe; Gloria, a young surfer girl; Victoria, an old lady who sold souvenirs; and Soledad, the wife of one of the landowners.

“It’s good to see you all. I’m Dick, Dick Grayson. Some of you already met my — met Barbara. She’s with me.”

Rosita raised an eyebrow at that.

“Do you all know whether or not all the men have legitimate alibis?”

“Most do,” said Gloria. She fiddled with one of her braids. “But that still leaves several unaccounted for. My uncle and my best friend’s husband are in there, you know.”

“My husband is in there,” Soledad fretted.

“We’ll get them all out,” Dick promised.

Ana cleared her throat.

“My shift starts up again in half an hour, so please, I’d like to know how we’re going to do that.”

Dick braced one hand on the table.

“I’m going to keep the man behind all this preoccupied, and one of the other men who framed your friends is already on his way to set them free instead — and to make sure no one else will try to bribe, threaten, or blackmail them.”

All the women looked either astonished or skeptical.

“How did you get him to?” asked Elena.

“I didn’t.” Dick smiled despite himself. “Let’s just say there’s another woman I know who’s very persuasive, and very pervasive.”

They all exchanged looks.

“You are definitely not a typical rich pretty boy,” Gloria decided.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, that’s a compliment, but it also means that you’re kind of scary. What do you have going on, underneath —” She pointed at his chest and twirled her finger in a circle, “— all that handsomeness?”

He shrugged.

“There’s a lot I can’t say. But believe me, I don’t want to scare you; I want to help you.”

They exchanged looks again.

“I think we do believe you,” Ana said softly.

He smiled at her, and she blushed. The other women seemed to relax all the way at last, and as they did, Dick felt warmer. This was what was right. If he was able to help these people, all his problems were more than worth it.

“Okay.” He looked up and faced them all, glad to see trust in their faces. Time was growing short. “So here’s what you guys can do...”

 

* * *

 

It felt like preparing for war.

The call to Nasir was done. The recording was done. With her shoes and a full face of makeup already on, she slowly pulled the zipper up the back of her dress, slipping on a pair of silver earrings, all with complete focus.

So it came as a complete shock when her tablet started chiming with a video call from the Manor.

She quickly threw on her bathrobe, tying it shut, before she grabbed the computer and answered the call.

Much to her surprise, it wasn’t Bruce with her son and her Batgirls. It was Dinah.

“Hey there, honey.”

Her best friend held the baby with utter gentleness. She knew that those hands, more than Steph’s and nearly as much as Cass’s, could easily rupture organs and break bones, but it still made perfect sense to see Dinah so maternal and loving. But at the same time, all three women looked tired.

“Di,” she greeted her. “It’s good to see you, but you know, with all the help you put in for wedding preparations and all, you’ve been in Gotham nearly a month. When you go back to Star, as your leader, I’m going to order you to visit a day spa and go to bed early for a few days.”

“Oh no, how will I manage?” Dinah chuckled a bit. “I’m okay Babs, it’s just —”

“You are not,” Cass interjected. “Talia made you upset.”

Dinah was still for a moment.

“Okay, fine. The bitch got under my skin. But what does she know?” A little bit of her usual spark reentered her eyes. “I may not be able to have babies, she may not think I’m worthy of what I’ve done and the people in my life, but here they are anyway. Here I am anyway.” She gestured in front of her. “Look who my best friend is.”

Looking at the four of them, the edges of Barbara’s cold anger wore down.

“Forget about me,” she said. “You all are what matter. If she’s been bringing up what she shouldn’t, what happened to you —”

“Babs.” Steph looked her right in the eye. “What happened to us happened. What we did, we did. But you helped us, remember?”

“It happened,” Cass said softly. “Yes. It hurt. There are things...I would take back. But I’m not...afraid or ashamed. Because of you. You know that? You should not be...either. Should be proud.”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak.

“I am proud. I’m proud of all of you, of all the people that I love.” She took a breath. “Di. I know you’re usually the one helping me out, but...what other people say doesn’t matter. What they think of you doesn’t matter. You are one of the most important people in my life. You are incredibly valuable to hundreds of people. I love you so, so much, and I’m not the only one. What matters is how incredible you are, and how much we care about you.”

Dinah looked at her again, but her expression had become impossibly soft.

“I do know that,” she said quietly. She raised a finger and touched it to the screen. “I’ve grown to learn it. But I like — and appreciate — that you keep reminding me. I love you too.”

The harshness inside her made way for something warm, something strong.

“It’s also good hanging around with the rest of your Bats,” Dinah added, a genuine smile coming to her face. “Gotham may be a shithole, but it’s our shithole, and these are some seriously good kids we got here.”

The tiredness broke in all their faces as the girls grinned at her in response.

“I think Roy’s on his way to getting used to it here too,” Steph remarked.

“He’d better be,” Barbara smiled, feeling good, feeling hopeful. “You all did see his face when Dick threw the garter to Jason, right?”

“I knew he aimed it at him on purpose!”

They all laughed delightedly. John gurgled happily, flapping his arms about as he picked up on their newfound mood.

Barbara smiled again at the screen, reaching out towards them.

“It’ll all be over by tonight,” she promised. “I miss you guys, and I wish there was something I could do for you directly, but Talia won’t stay once this is over, and Vicki...well. But I trust you, okay?”

“You too,” Cass declared.

“Good luck kicking ass.”

As for Dinah, she raised her free hand to her mouth, and blew a small kiss, then lifted John’s arm so that he appeared to be waving.

Barbara touched her fingers to her own lips as the call ended.

Amazing what even a short talk can do, she thought.

A new kind of determination had seized her. She yanked the bathrobe back off, then rolled to the bathroom, checking her makeup one last time, carefully brushing her hair into long, soft red waves.

This was going to be a party for everyone there to remember.

 

* * *

 

The Crystal Ballroom was like many that Dick had been to already.

He’d dropped by the police station several times during the day, to make sure that everything was going to plan, so by the time he’d gotten changed and arrived at the party, it was already in swing, and Barbara was nowhere in sight.

The room itself was fairly grand; its walls a pale yellow, tall windows opening out into balconies, several small doors to the bathrooms, the exit, and the coat closet. The white tiered ceiling arched into a graceful dome from which dangled a massive chandelier. Several long tables had been set up with white tablecloths, and with drinks and snacks. A computer had been hooked up to several surround-sound speakers, filling the air with classical music.

The guests numbered about four dozen, the men in suits, the women in slinky cocktail dresses. They all seemed to know each other at least by reputation, chatting fairly easily amongst themselves. A few people had brought teenage or college-age children, all of whom looked bored, uncomfortable, or both.

“Quite the welcome, isn’t it?”

Dick turned and came face-to-face with him.

Lex Luthor. Wearing a black power suit the price of which could’ve fed a whole village for a month, holding a flute of expensive champagne with practiced grace. Smiling in a very content, self-satisfied kind of way, as though he didn’t spend his time harassing literal illegal aliens. Or maybe because of it.

Dick wondered how one person, who never seemed to get his hands dirty directly, still seemed to accomplish so much; to hold so much power, and use it so poorly.

“Sure is,” he replied neutrally, taking a small sip from his glass.

Luthor raised an eyebrow at him.

“Bruce Wayne’s boy, aren’t you? I’m...familiar with him and your...brother Timothy.”

Dick felt proud of Tim for making a nuisance of himself at LexCorp.

“Yes I am, and I guess you would be.”

“Given me a fair bit of trouble, I should say.” Lex’s tone was light, but Dick saw the hidden warning in his posture and his eyes.

“I have no plans to give you trouble this evening, Mr. Luthor. I’m just a partygoer, and that’s all I’m going to do.”

“Good.” Lex relaxed again, his smug smile reasserting itself.

He then walked off, leaving an opening in front of Dick which a cluster of women immediately filled.

“You came after all,” one of them exclaimed.

“Didn’t think you would,” another remarked. “What with that redhead you’ve got tied to you all the time. She seemed like she’d ruin all your fun.”

“What? No, I like her, I like being with her —”

“Why would you say such a thing?” chuckled Sam Marcus, sauntering over, his drink held loosely; judging by the redness of his cheeks it was not his first. He wrapped one arm around one of the women. “She’s not here. You don’t have to lie for her sake.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Sure you’re not.” Still embracing his blonde, Marcus leaned in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, Richard, that redheaded friend of yours seems to have entirely too much leeway. You can’t give a woman, even a woman you’re not with, too many inches, or she’ll think she has power over you.”

The women around them didn’t argue with this, but their smiles seemed to now be rather fixed. One winced almost imperceptibly.

“What’s so wrong with that?” Dick challenged, his anger at Marcus’s attitude seeping into his tone.

Marcus blanched for a moment, but quickly recovered.

“Richard. You’re young! She’s just a friend. You have plenty of beauties around you.” He tugged the woman in his arms closer. “You don’t have to have a woman controlling you, you’re not married.” He laughed heartily at his own joke.

Dick was dangerously close to snapping before a female voice cut through Marcus’s.

“Sam! I’d like a word with Richard myself, please.”

They both turned to see Eloise Mercer marching imperiously towards them; the younger women scattered before her like pigeons.

“Trying to get him involved with your goddaughter, Eloise?” Marcus guessed. “Good idea. Kim’s a sweet girl. Not the brightest bulb, but sweet. Ideal for a young man.”

“Sam, perhaps you should save your opinions on Kim and how ideal she is for a young man for a later date,” Eloise cut him off, taking Dick by the shoulder and steering him off.

Twenty feet later, Dick exhaled hard.

“Thanks for that.”

“You don’t seem like you deserve to be subjected to any more of the bastards I have to associate with,” Eloise told him.

“Thanks again.” He paused. “So...are you actually trying to get me involved with your goddaughter?”

“Well, that depends.”

He was about to inquire further when his eye was caught by a flash of color near the entrance. He turned to get a better look...

...and his heart seemed to stop.

She was wearing a sleeveless twilight-blue dress with no back and a low neckline, accentuating her muscles and curves, showing off her shoulders and chest. Her lips and flowing hair seemed impossibly red, her black-lined eyes impossibly green, especially as she’d foregone her glasses in favor of contact lenses. She glanced around the ballroom, shaking back her magnificent hair, and his heartbeat came back twice as fast as usual. He also felt vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open.

“Specifically, it depends on the kind of reaction you have to her presence,” Eloise finished rather wryly.

Dick’s mouth snapped shut, and he looked up at the older woman at bit sheepishly.

“It’s quite alright. I’m certain I’ll be able to find Kim a nice young man some other time, and I suspect she isn’t your type anyway.” She took a sip from her wineglass, her sharp gaze darting to Barbara for a moment, before back to Dick. “If I were you, I’d go to her before you get set upon again.”

He nodded wordlessly, before beginning to walk across the ballroom, almost like he was in a dream.

Her head snapped up as he reached her, her piercing green gaze turning soft and affectionate.

“Babs, you...” Dick swallowed hard, his mouth feeling very dry, “you look incredible.”

“I feel pretty incredible, actually.” She beckoned him closer, then whispered: “I have the recording set up. It’ll begin playing automatically in half an hour, when the party’s in full swing; by then I’ll have to slip away so I can finish the plan.” She paused. “All went well with the Costa Ricans?”

“Everything’s working on my end,” he agreed. “I’m really glad...Barbara, if we pull this off...”

“We will.” She put her hand on his. “It’ll work Dick, I promise.”

He squeezed her fingers.

“I love you,” he murmured, wishing he could shout it. Something flickered in her expression, just for a moment, before she smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

He smiled back at her, then the smile became a bit crooked.

“So. We have half an hour to kill, huh?”

She caught on immediately, drawing back slightly, raising her eyebrows.

“You really think we have time to sneak back to our suite thirty floors up, have sex, and then sneak back in just half an hour?”

“Who says it has to be in our suite?”

Her gaze as it flicked down him was as hungry as anyone else’s, but he felt none of the same discomfort as when it was a stranger, and all the beginning of a thrill instead.

“Sounds like a risk, Hunk Wonder.”

“Isn’t that what we do?”

 

* * *

 

They ended up slipping across the ballroom to, of all places, the coat closet.

“Well, risk included, this is a huge cliche,” she remarked as he propped the backrest of her chair under the handle. There were almost no coats, but there was a small ledge for people to rest their umbrellas against, and that was where she was sitting.

“Yeah, it’s like high school all over again.”

“No way, I am not buying that you had sex in odd places until you were at least eighteen,” she teased. “Plus, obviously, we never hooked up in high school.”

“In retrospect, that’s probably a good thing. If you locked my fifteen-year-old self in a coat closet with you and started taking off your clothes he probably would’ve had a stroke.”

“But at least he would’ve died happy.”

“True.”

He moved closer, his eyes alight. One hand cupped her waist, the other played with the neckline of her dress, pulling it to the side to expose one of her breasts, her coral-pink nipple puckering under his fingertips.

She reached under her skirt and slowly teased down her panties, her arm wriggling between them, occasionally pausing to nudge at his hip or leg. Her fingers stroked down his thigh; she felt him shiver under her touch, flattening his palm against her breast and cupping it, rolling it under his hand. She gasped, bracing both hands on the ledge, her pussy beginning to flush with heat.

“Dick...” she moaned.

He smiled, then without warning, removed his hand from her breast and slipped it between her legs. He wasted no time pressing his thumb to her clit, his forefinger stroking along her swollen folds.

Dick took one of her hands in his unoccupied one as he stood between her legs, stroking and circling, her clit pulsed and slickness seeped between her legs. Barbara whimpered and clamped her lip between her teeth as he kept it up, still with a smile on his lips, a little spark in his eyes.

One finger slipped inside, curling and pressing against that little rough spot, and her orgasm burst through her; she clenched around Dick’s finger, trying to stifle her cry.

When she came back down, his smile had grown, even as he licked off his hand.

She seized the back of his head and kissed him; their hands broke apart to wrap around each others’ shoulders. He leaned in closer, and she sighed happily, humming against his lips. They separated, and he quickly reached for his fly, undoing his belt buckle and unzipping eagerly. Within seconds, he’d freed his erection, stroking it a few times.

Barbara hiked up the front of her skirt and pushed her knees apart. Then with a smirk and a a crooked finger, beckoned him forward.

Dick’s eyebrows shot up, then he grinned enormously.

She held him around both shoulders while he held her waist and quickly positioned himself, then pushed inside her, completely filling her up with a single thrust. She gasped, tensing for a moment, her muscles squeezing and massaging his cock. Dick groaned, long and low.

For a moment, they were still.

Then they began to move together with abandon; he thrust into her eagerly, sheathing himself in her fully each time and she welcomed him fully, her hot, slick pussy contracting around him; like always she relished just how much he filled her up, hard and broad, just how right he always felt inside her.

Their torsos were pressed up against each other as his hips moved, her heart thundered, she kissed him over and over and held him and never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly.

“I love you so much —” He kissed her again, “— you’re my best friend, my dream girl. If this is being under your control, then I _love_ being under your control.”

“Always gotta one-up me, don’t you?” she teased, smiling at him so broadly.

She could feel the pressure building in her belly again; she squeezed and fluttered around him and he moaned again.

“Babs, I’m gonna —”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

She clenched him as she came hard; he hissed through his teeth, clearly holding back a shout, and a moment later, she felt his cum spurting up into her, her pussy milking him for every drop.

They held each other as they came down, panting. Barbara gazed at him as he pulled out and tucked himself back away, realizing with some embarrassment that his hair was all ruffled and that she’d left red smears of lipstick all over his mouth.

“Y’know, I think you could get away with pretending you didn’t just have a quickie in a coat closet,” Dick remarked.

“Can’t say the same for you.” She pressed a finger to his mouth, trying to wipe away the worst of the smears. Neither of them noticed at first that the door had opened, or that they had company.

That is, until the woman in question cleared her throat.

Evie, wearing burgundy lipstick, black suit pants, and a white silk blouse, was holding a jacket over one arm and looking at them with her dark eyebrows nearly at her hairline.

“I think...next time ye two might want to do that behind a door that locks.”

“Shit.”

Barbara hastily pulled her skirt back down and neckline back up, brushing her hair into place and clearing her throat while her cheeks burned. She was still regretting talking openly about her relationship, her child, and this woman before them held their dignity in her hands; she waited for the other shoe to drop, for them to be humiliated.

“Ye’ve got very nice tits for someone who’s had a baby. I couldn’t have told at all.”

Barbara blinked in surprise. Dick shot her a _told-you_ look.

“Oh, well, thank you.”

The other woman smiled.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone. I’m nosy, not a blabbermouth.” She paused. “I could hear ye about two meters from the closet though, so next time ye might also want to be a little quieter. Although from what I heard, it does seem like your man actually knows what he’s doing.

It was Dick’s turn to look surprised and pleased. Barbara was strongly reminded of her friends, and she couldn’t help but smile too at the thought.

“So I’m gonna help ye out, boyo. Tuck your shirt back in, run your fingers through your hair, and —” She tossed him a packet of makeup wipes, which he gratefully started using. “As for ye: got your lipstick with ye, _a_ _chara_?”

“I do.”

Before she knew it, Evie was kneeling before her, helping her re-apply her makeup so that it didn’t look smeared. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and Barbara felt a rush of gratitude and affection towards her.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said when the other woman was done. “You barely know me.”

“It’s not about whether ye know the someone you’re helping out.” Evie capped the lipstick and handed it back to her. “Besides, from what I’ve heard about the pair of ye, I’m kinda rooting for ye to work out.”

“Don’t worry,” Dick assured her, handing back the wipes, “we will.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

 

* * *

 

 Steph had had watched plenty of movies on the Wayne Manor living room couch before, but never with two small children curled up against her, a couple curled up next to her, and Black Canary sprawled across the armchair. Lian and John had fallen asleep by the end of the second _Kung Fu Panda,_ but all the adults — Steph, Roy, Jason, and Dinah — were seeing the series through to the end.

“Weirdly enough, I think these movies are the most emotionally satisfying I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Agreed.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Yeah, but how do you think this would sound to someone who’s never seen the _Kung Fu Panda_ movies?”

Steph laughed softly.

Unfortunately right then, the doorbell chimed. The four of them all froze, looking at each other in trepidation.

Alfred seemed to materialize out of nowhere, marching smartly past them towards the foyer. A few seconds later, they heard his voice, dripping with distaste.

“Ah, Miss Victoria. I suppose you’re here to demonstrate to me why I should not leave the gate open, even for the sake of letting in old friends.”

“Sweet of you, Alfred.”

“I was referring to the children’s partners that are visiting at the moment. And to Master Damian’s dog.”

Steph snickered.

“‘The children’s partners’?” Vicki was undeterred by the snub. “The boys definitely have girlfriends now? Or does Cassandra have a boyfriend?”

“Miss Victoria, I can assure you that Miss Cassandra does not have a boyfriend,” Alfred deadpanned. “And that not a single one of the young masters have girlfriends.”

Jason joined her in snickering.

“You said they had partners.”

“I did.”

“Are you deliberately contradicting yourself, or —”

“I encourage you to think about what I said at your leisure. Perhaps you’ll think outside your perceived expectations, and so perhaps you’ll find that I was not contradicting myself. Perhaps.”

Vicki scoffed.

“This is beside the point,” she said, “I’m going to need to come in, if you please.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately I do not please. I would actually like to bid you good night now, Miss Victoria.”

“I have freedom of the press, you can’t shut me out —”

There were sounds of creaking and angry sounds of effort, and then the loud, rhythmic click-click-click of heels on the marble floor, followed by Alfred’s indignant protests.

“Ah, hell,” Roy muttered, voicing what everyone was thinking.

Steph paused the movie just as Vicki burst in. Alfred followed a second later, wearing an expression rather like he’d had when the cat had left a hairball in one of Bruce’s best shoes.

Resting her hands on her pencil-skirted hips, Vicki looked squarely at Steph — and at the children beside her.

“You again. You do seem to be seen with that baby a lot,” she remarked, “And that little girl...”

“Is my daughter,” Roy said hotly, getting to his feet. Jason followed, and this time, he was clearly not about to hold his boyfriend back. “And if you breathe a single word about her —”

“— you’ll find out that ‘free speech’ goes both ways,” Dinah said menacingly, walking over to stand at her stepson’s side. “You wanna be reminded of how you tried to prove your insane theory of this family being vigilantes? Or do you want the commissioner, one of Bruce’s best friends, to know your habits of trespassing on these grounds?”

Vicki was affronted.

“Are you blackmailing me?” she said to Dinah. “You? You’re a nobody.”

“Only to people whose opinions I frankly don’t give a shit about.” Dinah showed her teeth. “But huh. I’m not good at blackmailing, am I? I tend to leave it to other people. Fine, here we go: freedom of the press won’t cover your hospital bills, girlfriend.”

_A woman after my own heart. Figuratively._

“How dare you threaten me —!”

The yelling must’ve been echoing all through the Manor, because she didn’t even have time to get properly angry before the rest of the family appeared in the entryway. Most of them were in their various sleepwear. Damian, much to Steph’s utter delight, was wearing Batgirl pajamas.

“Oh hey Vicki,” Tim said nonchalantly. “Long time no see.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Bruce rumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “What are you doing in my house?”

Vicki looked all the way up to face her ex-boyfriend.

“I’m curious about this new member of your household, Bruce.”

“Why?” Duke asked with faux ignorance. “I had a press conference almost two months ago. Pretty sure you were there for that.”

“That baby,” she continued, “belongs to one of your family. I may have been wrong about you being Batman, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have your secrets, don’t you? Which one of your family does he belong to, Bruce?”

Bruce’s face was as impassive as a wall of granite.

“Is that what Tim was so secretive about?” she pressed. “Has he really been with someone new since he broke up with Tam Fox? Is that what he was running around for —”

“I’m gay, Vicki,” Tim interrupted.

The entire room fell silent.

“...What?”

“Pretty obvious in retrospect, isn’t it?” Steph remarked. Tim shot her a sheepish grin.

“Uh yeah, I’m gay. And our Aunt Kate is gay. And Cass is gay.” Cass waved. “And Duke —”

“— is still figuring it out,” Duke said helpfully. “But either way, I’m still single.”

“And Damian is only a kid,” Tim continued. “And Bruce has only been dating one person for ages now, and she definitely didn’t have that baby. So I don’t know what angle you’re going for here.”

“Yeah, they’re a family full of queers,” Jason grinned. “Even Bruce’s girlfriend’s bi, and Dick Grayson’s bi; but everyone knows that about him, he’s been out since he was like, sixteen. Even little Jason Todd was gay, y’know, before he died. Too bad. He was such a sweet little kid, so good-hearted, so smart, so full of potential, and you could really tell he was going to be so handsome and get all the guys when he grew up —”

Vicki stared at him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Ignacios Wolfram Galahad Betty Dumbledore the Ninth,” he replied immediately, still grinning. “I’m the new orphan. My parents were eaten by dinosaurs.”

“And every single day your sense of humor grows worse and worse,” Damian informed his brother.

“Feel free to report on our sexualities, by the way,” Tim added.

“Yes,” Cass agreed. “We are not...embarrassed. Or ashamed.”

“Neither am I,” Bruce rumbled. “I’m proud of all of them.”

His kids all looked up at him with wide eyes, and Steph felt a surprising, genuine wave of affection towards the guy. Alfred smiled.

Vicki was actually taken aback for a few more moments.

“But Dick Grayson...” she thought out loud. “He...”

She made a movement towards John.

Steph’s reaction was instantaneous.

One hand whipped out, her extended forefinger an inch away from the older woman’s nose. Vicki froze in place, crossing her eyes as she looked at Steph, whose whole heart was brimming with protectiveness.

“That baby’s parents will announce themselves on their own time,” she said, her voice carrying through the whole room, without a trace of doubt or hesitation. “But people’s personal lives are their lives, who they sleep with, what they do with their bodies, who they love. They’re entitled to that, and they shouldn’t be made to feel afraid or ashamed for doing nothing wrong. Just for loving, just for having a kid. So I’m only gonna tell you this once: get the _fuck_ out, because I love this baby, and I love his parents, and bitch, I will _beat_ _your_ _ass_.”

Stephanie suddenly realized that as she was talking, the rest of the family, Dinah and Roy included, were coming over to her, lining up and closing in around her, like they were forming ranks at her side. Unassailable, and absolutely united, and all, including her, absolutely sure of themselves. Vicki’s confidence and determination began to visibly crumble under the force of Stephanie, and under the united force of the family standing together for the sake of one of their own.

“You’d better listen to the kid,” Dinah advised, putting a hand on Steph’s shoulder.

Vicki finally deflated all the way, taking a long, shuddering breath.

“Alright,” she said quietly, tucking her phone and voice recorder back into her purse. She walked away from the united family, a person defeated. Her footsteps receded into the distance, the door opened and shut on its own with a final sort of snap.

Then, Steph found herself surrounded by cheering, and by Dinah ruffling her hair affectionately, Jason whooping, Tim wrapping his arm around her, and Cass giving her a big, resounding kiss.

“Boy, am I glad you _are_ a family full of queers,” she remarked, leaning in to give Cass a kiss of her own, feeling truly, completely, like she belonged.

Just as Lian woke up, lifting her head and blinking owlishly at everyone.

“What did I miss?”

 

* * *

 

Dick’s phone rang with a number he’d only just saved.

“Camila. Is everything —?”

“It worked.” Camila sounded almost disbelieving. “It...I don’t know how you did it, but that Arab guy you sent over fully confessed to framing our men. He fought off two more of his former people who tried to confront our guys, and incriminated them. He even incriminated the one of us who was bribed into fake-confessing and landing everyone else in jail, and then he handed over the evidence he and the people he was with were planning to plant. The police were fully ready to listen to our alibis...Grayson, it worked.”

Dick beamed hugely, his entire person warming.

“Camila, that’s incredible. But I can’t take credit, I didn’t tell him to do it.”

“Yeah, that mysterious lady of yours. You know, you’ve definitely got some secrets, Grayson.”

“I can’t deny that.”

For a moment, she was quiet. Dick glanced around; sure enough, Barbara had receded away. Preparing for what was about to happen.

“I suppose I do owe you a favor, don’t I?”

“It’s okay,” he grinned, “you can pay me back by being my sidekick.”

“Ha ha ha, _idiota_. But really. I promise you Grayson, I won’t pry; whatever your secrets are, they’re safe in Puerto Viejo.”

His smile became softer.

“ _Gracias,_ Camila.”

_“De nada.”_

“So how’s my pronunciation now?”

“Terrible. It’s your American accent, it makes everything you say sound stupid.” She did a startlingly good impression of his voice: “ _‘Gracias,_ Camila.’ I mean, really.”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh, despite himself.

As he did, the song playing over the surround-sound speakers came to an end. Lex Luthor took the opportunity to clear his throat, then lifted his glass for a toast. The room was almost totally rapt.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began smoothly, “it’s a pleasure to be welcomed here at the Hotel Magnifico. All of you, here tonight, are a delight and a balm, my fellow businessmen and industrialists. And so, it’s also a pleasure for me to announce —”

A screeching burst of static cut through the speakers; everyone yelled or gasped or clutched their ears, while Luthor dropped his glass. Dick’s smile became a proud, satisfied smirk.

“What was that?” Camila demanded.

“That,” Dick murmured, “is why I’m about to put you on speaker. And if your friends are there, I suggest letting them listen to this too.”

He did just that as the recording began.

 _“— yes, Lex Luthor hired me,”_ came Farid Nasir’s voice. _“Me and ten more members of the League of Assassins, behind the backs of the great al Ghuls, my masters — you do swear you won’t tell them?”_

 _“Get on with it, Nasir,”_ came a mechanical woman’s voice, filtered through a modulator. _“The whole truth, remember.”_

_“He offered us a huge amount of money to frame local Costa Rican men for conspired death threats and attempted murder. He did this so that once they were in jail, he could take their land and build it up, get a foothold in the Caribbean. He said it was because it would be easy to gain power in the islands, so that he could expand his empire further; since he lost a lot after being president and then being impeached. And that it would be easy to quote, fool his stupid, unimaginative contemporaries into being sympathetic towards him, unquote.”_

Luthor’s smile flickered and went out like a blown lightbulb. Angry murmuring was beginning to rise from the crowd.

_“So if he could make them angry at the Costa Ricans, he could have them on his side when he started buying up the land cheap and developing it. So we forged the handwriting for the death threats. I threatened a young woman who woke up to me in her room. We bribed one of the locals to falsely confess. We were about to force the rest to confess, and to plant false evidence to ensure a conviction. Luthor won’t be convicted by the Costa Rican authorities, will he, even though we will.”_

“Leave Luthor to me,” said Oracle. _“And as for you, yes. They will convict you. This plan will fail. Especially once all the people who Luthor wanted on his side hear all this.”_

The recording came to an end, and by then, the angry murmuring had risen to angry shouting.

“You son of a bitch!” raged one woman.

“Thought you could fool us?” a man blustered. “Trick us, use us for your cockamamie plan?”

“Not a chance!” someone else yelled. “Never again, Luthor, never again! I’m getting home, and I’m ripping up our contract!”

“We’ll never do business with you ever again!”

A roar of agreement. Luthor was almost entirely still, aside from a single vein twitching in his forehead.

Then from the speakers, came her voice again.

The room became still. Dick noticed a few people taking out their phones and recording, a few more dialing their friends.

 _“You may never get convicted for this, Luthor. But hey, good luck with the sudden hit your stocks are about to take. You do know who I am and what I do, don’t you?”_

“Oracle,” he said aloud. “Batman’s dog.”

 _“I’m not Batman’s anything, Luthor. But right now, you’re_ my _bitch.”_ She laughed, her voice echoing around the ballroom. _“Like, I said, you’ll never get convicted. You’re rich, and you’ve got good lawyers, and you’re a complete asshole, and that tends to keep people out of prison. But you’ll never get into the Caribbean or Central America now, and no one back home will trust you, after you just tried to manipulate them and their associates. The people of Puerto Viejo are being freed, all their charges dropped, as we speak.”_

Across the room, Dick also noticed Jason Bard on the phone. He realized that Bard must’ve been calling Talia, telling her that Luthor had already been stopped.

“Someday, Oracle, I will find you,” Luthor said, his voice deceptively calm.

 _“Someday, you can try. But it isn’t someday. It’s today. And today, I win again. You failed.”_

The connection broke, and classical music cheerfully started up again. The vindictive shouts of the Americans began to rise against Luthor again as he stared at the computer, his face tight.

“Well, that was totally worth it,” Camila remarked from the phone.

“Right?”

Luthor took a deep, long breath.

Then he turned and rigidly stalked off, leaving the ballroom for good, brushing past a woman who was re-entering the room, upright in her wheelchair, absolutely calm and content.

“Did I miss something?” she asked Dick innocently.

His heart swelled with happiness and pride.

“God, I love you so much,” he breathed.

“Tell her something she doesn’t know,” Camila chuckled. “Hey, we’re all heading down to the beach to celebrate. Should be there all night, you two can come down and join us if you want. You can even bring some of those other Americans, if they’re not assholes.”

“I think we’ll take you up on that in a minute,” Barbara decided.

“Alright. See you there.”

Dick hung up, then looked at his wife.

“Why ‘in a minute?’”

She looked around at all the faces.

“Just something I’ve been thinking about recently —”

“Richard!”

Both of them turned around.

All of the crowd was looking at the two of them now. The teenagers, and a few others, Jason Bard, Eloise, Kim, the young blond man from the Sunset Lounge, Evie, looked curious or innocently bemused. Most of them however, looked disdainful or incredulous.

“Richard, we’re having a party for people who are somebody,” Sam Marcus enunciated. “People who mean something. And that goes doubly for the women you want to spend time with; we’ve been over that.”

“So why did you bring that little bitch?” Linda Fridlington sneered. “She’s nothing. You don’t have to bring her here out of some kind of pity-bargain — oh sorry, friendship — because Bruce is friends with her father.”

“Yes, you could do so much better than to associate with her.”

His happiness was overshadowed by rising anger. He turned it towards them; the faces who’d been expecting him to agree with them suddenly blanched.

“I would be the luckiest man in the world just to be friends with her,” he snarled. “And if you really knew me or liked me at all, you’d know that I hate anyone who treats the people I care about badly. So good luck getting your hands on my trust fund, or even on any more invitations to Bruce’s events.”

He turned, and was about to walk away and leave it at that.

“And besides, we’re not friends.”

He stopped, turning and looking at Barbara, trying to decide if he’d really heard her say that. She still looked completely calm, and completely at peace, her hands folded in her lap.

“Ha!” Linda crowed. “I knew it —”

“We’re married.”

That bombshell rendered the ballroom utterly silent. Eyes bugged out, mouths dropped, but nobody seemed capable of saying a word.

Until:

“ _WHAT?_ ”

Barbara tossed her head back proudly.

“We’re married,” she repeated. “On our honeymoon, as a matter of fact. We were married just a week ago in Gotham; two months before that I had our baby boy.” She shrugged as everyone else gaped. “You might as well know.”

When she finished, everyone started talking or shouting at once.

Dick looked at her in wonder. She looked up, taking his hand.

“Let ‘em know,” she murmured. “I can take it. Besides, out of all the secrets we have, honestly, I think this one’s pretty tame.”

“And yet, they don’t seem to be taking it all that well.”

“You _married him?_ ” someone wailed. “You _had his baby?_ How could you have done this? Why?”

There was not a single bit of hesitation in Barbara’s voice. Everyone fell silent again as she spoke.

“Because I love him. We’ve loved each other for years; this was inevitable. And I don’t care if you think we’re mismatched, or if you just don’t like it. We’re good together, and he’s good for me.” She glanced back up at him for a moment. “And I’m not afraid or ashamed to say it.”

At that, she turned around with finality, her hair whipping out behind her like a red banner. In a heartbeat, she wheeled out of the ballroom away from the crowd, her authority and surety still hanging in the air.

Dick felt overcome with love.

Smiling to himself with a kind of awe, he faced the astonished crowd.

“What can I say? It’s true,” he confirmed. “I love her.” The words tasted sweet in his mouth. “I’m not afraid or ashamed to say it either.”

He turned and walked a few paces towards the door, before pausing.

“Oh, and we’re heading to the beach with the locals who just got exhumed, if anyone wants to come along.”

He had just reached out to clasp the handle before he heard something that should have surprised him, but didn’t: the sudden surge of feet behind him. The group of people who had made up their minds to leave the party behind too and join them, running and whooping with newfound joy.

 

* * *

 

Duke was almost the only one not on patrol when he saw Talia packing up her things to leave.

Bruce, Kate, and the other kids had long since headed off; all of them had been in spectacular moods, and likely wouldn’t be back until dawn. There was nothing like knocking out a criminal three times your size to make a good mood even better.

Dinah had fallen asleep on the couch, looking astonishingly peaceful as she held John to her chest. Alfred had taken his leave, possibly for bed as well, although it was still unclear when or where he actually slept. Lian, who had been supposed to be asleep hours ago, had snuck up to the library to read the books Roy had told her she was Absolutely Not Allowed To Read, no matter how good Jason had said they were. Duke, for his part, was perfectly happy to sit at the kitchen island and write away at his latest project, music pouring through his headphones.

That is, until he heard the sound of light footsteps from the living room.

“— don’t have to, you know.”

It was Selina. But she wasn’t alone.

“Yes, I do, and I think you know that I do.”

Duke took out his headphones, surprised and curious to hear Talia sound not proud, but regretful.

“None of them want me around. Not even my Beloved; he loves you now instead, doesn’t he?”

“You _have_ kind of proved to Cass, Tim, and Dick that you hate them,” Selina pointed out.

“Don’t speak to me of those three,” Talia snapped. “He should know — Cassandra was supposed to serve my family’s purpose, and instead she ran away. Timothy stood between my son’s place at his father’s side, and he humiliated my father. And Richard...Richard turned my own child against me.”

“But Bruce loves _all_ the little brats.” There was a touch of affection in Selina’s voice. “Not just Damian. Your mistake wasn’t that you didn’t love Bruce enough, it was that you assumed that he was going to prioritize his biological kid over his adopted kids.”

“Nothing is more important than blood.”

“Talia. My dad was a D-list criminal asshole who beat me and my mom. So was Jason’s dad; his birth mom sold him out to the Joker to save her own skin. Tim’s parents never bothered to raise him, or even see him. Steph’s dad was a criminal, a wannabe, and a bastard who saw her as his property. Cass’s dad abused her worst of all, and her mom didn’t see her at all the first seventeen years of her life and killed her twice. I don’t know what your dad did to you, but I bet anything it was as bad as any of that.” She paused. “Look, I used to think I was past redemption too.”

“Did Bruce tell you otherwise?”

“Yes. And I’m guessing he told you that too. But I had to decide otherwise for myself. You were hurt and used by your dad, right? You hated that he did that to you? Then fight back, Talia. Decide that you’re going to do that for yourself — and be sure to remind Bruce that it was for yourself too. Can’t have him getting a swelled head, you know.”

Talia chuckled, but then it turned sad.

“I suppose you’re more than a mere petty thief.”

“Thanks.”

“But I can’t be whatever I want, like you or these children. I can only be what I am, what destiny ordained me to be. I have to inherit the League of Assassins. I may not share my father’s preference of methods, but I do share his vision for the world.”

“Destiny’s a son of a bitch.”

“You aren’t wrong. But there’s one more thing.” Talia paused. “Damian. My son.Will he ever come back to me? Will he ever change his mind? Will he ever stop thinking of this odd collection of misfits as his family, and return to the family that birthed and raised him? Will I be able to ever have my son back?”

Selina was quiet for a few moments.

“No,” she said finally.

Talia sighed.

“So you understand. I will always love Damian, but he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, he doesn’t believe in me anymore. My own child is lost to me; I have no one at my side anymore, and so I have no incentive to fight for change. I have nothing but my father’s cause left to fight for.”

There was a soft shuffling noise that indicated that Talia had picked up her bags.

“I will face Luthor, and he will pay for going behind my family’s backs. But it won’t be in Costa Rica. For now, I’ll leave Richard and Barbara in peace. And...the others as well.” The pride had returned to her voice, but it couldn’t quite hide the sorrow. “So. Goodbye, Selina.”

A minute passed, before in the distance, the front door clicked shut.

A few moments later, Duke looked around to see Selina walking through the kitchen door, an odd expression on her face. Otherwise, she looked about the same as usual in her sleepwear: black lounge pants and one of Bruce’s Wonder Woman t-shirts, her long nails still impeccable.

“Hey, kitten,” she said softly, walking over and stroking her hand over his head, leaning a bit against his seat. Duke felt his face heat up.

“I’m not your kitten.”

“Oh yes you are,” she returned, finally beginning to smile. “You all are. Don’t try to deny it.”

Duke couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Y’know Bruce and the others won’t be back till morning.”

“But you and Alfred are still here. That’s what I love about your family: there are so many of you, there’s always at least one around at all times.”

“Along with our antique diamond jewelry and our miniature statues of Ancient Egyptian cat goddesses.”

“That’s the main reason,” Selina teased, taking a seat next to him. “Still, it’s good to have them around even when I don’t plan on robbing them blind or chasing after them with whips.”

“I completely agree with you,” he said sincerely, turning back to his word document.

She hummed softly, leaning against his side. He let her, feeling safe, feeling content.

Outside the Manor window, the summer moon bathed the peaceful grounds in its light, while the distant city was reassured by the light of the Bat-Signal. A reminder of the people whose protection they were under, who would always be ready to fight those who would hurt others, and protect those who would be hurt.

A reminder to them of each other. That under the same night sky, never very far, were the people they loved.

 

* * *

 

The entire sky was blanketed in stars.

The air was so clear, the Milky Way was as visible as the moon; each spot of light was reflected onto the rippling surface of the ocean. But the mirror image was broken up by the people running through the water, laughing and swimming and splashing each other.

The two dozen men that had been freed, plus a good thirty women who were their friends, family members, girlfriends, or wives, and plus two more men who were their boyfriends, were all drinking or swimming or dancing to the rumbling bass of the music someone had set up. A handful of the hotel patrons’ teenage children rolicked along the beach, screaming in delight.

Eloise sat with dignity on the sugary sand, nibbling at appetizers she’d swiped from the ballroom. Kim took the fact that Dick was not available remarkably well, mourning her opportunity for about five minutes before she started flirting with a handsome Costa Rican man. An unfamiliar young blond man started flirting with a different handsome Costa Rican man. Evie chatted with Ana with great amiability, both their dark hair blowing in the night breeze.

While Barbara, sitting on the beach in her long blue dress, had a talk she should’ve had a long time ago.

“You broke off our engagement because you were...afraid?”

She nodded.

“I was in a lot of pain; something devastating had just happened to me. Everything was out of control, and the idea of getting married didn’t sound like stability to me, it sounded like I would be shackling myself to something else I couldn’t get a grip on. Love,” she explained. “Love has always scared me; because it’s impossible to plan for or control. I hate that. Besides, at the time, I couldn’t imagine that anyone would love me for me when I was handicapped, because even I didn’t like me.”

Jason exhaled.

“That explains why you kept putting off the wedding date, and never wanted to talk about kids.”

“Right.”

“But you have that with Dick.”

Barbara gazed up at the dazzling sky.

“I’ve grown up a lot since then. I like myself...I love myself, actually. Including my disability and all my more unsavory bits. I’ve gotten braver. I’ve found a lot more people who all have my back, no matter what. I’ve had a pretty crazy year, even for me, and I’ve been having a pretty crazy year since I was eighteen. It was never going to go fully to plan, it was never going to be perfect, but I can handle it now. I didn’t know how I was going to handle being pregnant or being a mother, but I did. I didn’t know how I was going to handle all the difficult things and people that cropped up, but I did. And...”

He looked at her.

“You really do love him, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t sad anymore. “He’s really the right one for you.”

“Yes.”

“Then who am I to stand in the way of that?”

He began to get to his feet, but didn’t leave just yet.

“Jason, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It was a long time ago. I’ve already forgiven you.” He paused. “I hope he makes you very happy.”

“He does.”

“Good.” He sighed softly again, relieved. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

“I...I hope that you’ll be happy too.”

“Thank you, Barbara.”

So he left, mingling into the joyful group of celebrants. For a minute or so, Barbara sat alone.

“That may be more stars than I ever saw in Gotham, but I still could swear you stole two of them to put in your eyes.”

She looked up at where he was standing over her.

“I think your pickup lines are actually getting cornier.”

“You say that, and yet they still work on you, so how about that?”

Dick bent down and sat beside her; they leaned into each other instinctively, and he wrapped his arm around her.

“So how about you’re a dork.”

“I’m the dork that you married,” he retorted. But as he said it, a more serious expression overtook his face. “Actually, about that.”

She looked at him.

“Why the change of heart? Why did you just tell a whole hotel’s worth of rich people, who are gonna tell all their rich friends, and eventually the press, about us and our son?”

Barbara rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know how I worry about being out of control? That was why I wasn’t comfortable at first with other people — people who weren’t our friends and family — knowing. It was a risk. But this is our life; no matter what, we’re always at risk in some way. And you were being put in a bad situation, our family was being put in a bad situation, because of people not knowing. I had to be brave.”

In front of them, several Americans danced together to the rhythm of the prerecorded guitars; a cluster of Costa Ricans clapped along in support, cheering them on in Spanish.

“And no matter what happens, I can handle it. I know I can. And I finally have all the right people by my side.” She took his other hand. “But even if I couldn’t have, being brave for our family, for our son, for you...it’s worth it.”

He breathed out long and soft, holding her even more tightly.

“You know how I worry about not doing or being enough. But together, we helped all these people...I know that we do make a difference. And you just went and told all those strangers that you loved me, that I was good for you.” Dick’s smile was illuminated by the moonlight. “Even if it’s hard to believe sometimes...”

“You’re always enough. You’re more than enough.”

“And you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

When she kissed him, it was soft and slow and warm with affection.

But it was also right after the song ended and everyone’s attention had wandered over to them.

She was startled back by the sudden roar of applause that filled the air. They both looked to face their cheering onlookers, Barbara feeling as red as Dick looked.

_“Muy bueno!”_

_“Excelente!”_

“Get a room!”

“No wonder they already have a kid,” one of the teenagers muttered to her friend.

“Alright, that’s enough,” she shouted over the clamor, and then again in Spanish.

“Although we do appreciate that you’re all so supportive,” Dick laughed.

“Of course we’re supportive!” one man called out in heavily accented English. “You got our asses out of jail, we can’t help but like you.”

There was a wave of noisy assent. A woman lifted her rum glass in a toast.

“You guys are pretty cool,” a teenage girl with a pixie cut said shyly, glancing over at Barbara. “And you seem pretty cute together. I can’t believe none of us figured out that you were together.”

Evie hid a smile behind her hand.

“Wait, wait a minute,” Enrique exclaimed, walking over and standing over beside the couple. He pointed at the hotel patrons. “None of you...figured out that these two are together?”

“Um...”

“Should we have?”

“Well, I mean...”

“Oh for the love of — They. Are. Wearing. _Rings_ ,” Camila yelled, cutting her brother completely off. He rolled his eyes behind her back. “They are _wearing rings!_ And not _one_ of you noticed!?”

“Well, I suppose we should’ve seen this kind of thing coming,” Barbara remarked dryly as the Santiagos kept up an incredulous debate, and the other Costa Ricans looked highly amused. Dick shook his head, but didn’t stop smiling.

“Hey, at least we spent our honeymoon doing the right thing, and ended up making friends. Granted, they’re not exactly normal friends, but none of our friends are anyway —”

“Sweetheart, we still have an entire week of our honeymoon left. And not a single evil plot in sight this time.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Then he raised his eyebrows, smiling crookedly.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He raised his voice eagerly and his index finger to emphasize his point:

“We...are going to _sleep_.”

She burst out laughing.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with the clever ideas.”

“You can have all the rest of them.” He kissed her temple.

“Sounds good to me.”

Barbara settled back in, listening to the bass thump from the sand-covered speakers. A line of people had started dancing again; someone had ran full-tilt into the water, pursued by their chortling partner. The Santiagos’ voices rose high up, as did the laughter from their friends and neighbors. Two images of blue-black swathed in silver met at the distant horizon, the fine sand was as warm as the man she was pressed against, and the palm trees bent gently under their own weight.

Everything about that felt right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, and it’s pure fluff. But I doubt anybody minds, especially not me.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, for kudos-ing and commenting, all of you. I had so much fun writing this, and though it will not be the last installment in this series, it’s a good note to close on for now. 
> 
> A very happy birthday to our Barbara Gordon, as well.
> 
> (And as a bonus: a summery playlist to accompany, for all your summer-loving needs:)  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/stormy-ella/playlist/5okIlpkTCGrSnxi1gaDguC?si=xY3gqiS4Sd2xhHVZA-Pqxg

The afternoon was old enough that the sunlight had turned from white to golden, the beach had filled with men, women, and children, and while palm trees bent, two people chased each other across the sand.

“That was my lunch!”

“Lunch was hours ago!”

“Fine, pre-dinner! That was my pre-dinner!”

“Tough!”

Dick ran up to where she was scrabbling — surprisingly quickly — across the sugary beach, but his sandwich was long gone. He leaped, she yelled and threw her hands up, and he landed above her, palms splayed on the sand, on either side of her.

She peered up, smirking, her vibrant hair sprayed out against the beach like a mermaid’s.

“Not often that you end up on top of me,” she remarked.

“Well, that’s what you get for stealing my food.”

Several kids had clustered nearby, peering curiously and giggling, whispering to each other in Spanish. Their parents glanced over too, smiling indulgently.

She poked him in the chest.

“You can’t handle my stealing your food? If you can’t handle that, then how will we ever have any more kids?”

“We’ll manage. Mostly because you can’t resist me.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You think so, huh?”

“I know so.”

He got up, sitting back on his heels.

Then he lunged forward again, seizing her around the waist and scooping her up, then getting to his feet and beginning to walk off towards the edge of the water.

The kids howled with laughter while Barbara yelled in exaggerated indignation.

“Richard John Grayson!”

“That’s my name,” he grinned, glancing back at her. If she’d really been mad about being carried over his shoulder, the tips of her hair trailing in the tiny rippling waves, it would’ve been obvious. But instead she scowled at him playfully.

“You put me down this instant!”

“You want me to put you down?”

“Yes! Put me down!”

He was waist-deep in the ocean.

“As you wish.”

He pulled her off his shoulder and dropped her in the water.

Dick laughed uproariously, as did the kids on the shore; two of them were literally rolling around on the sand. Barbara emerged from the water, spluttering indignantly, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes.

He was so busy laughing that he didn’t notice her grabbing him around the knees and then yanking him forward —

— and he fell face-first into the water too.

The kids cheered. One of the women even applauded.

For a moment, all he saw was turquoise water, rippling with hammered silver light, dusty with sand. Then he burst upwards, eye-to-eye with his smirking wife.

“Does this conclude the battle of the sexes?”

“Absolutely not.”

Moments later, they were engaged in a furious, shrieking water fight, laughing and splashing each other like children. Not surprisingly, they were soon joined by actual children eager to get in on the action, the little girls joining in on Barbara’s side, the little boys on Dick’s, yelling at each other in Spanish and dunking each other in the pristine ocean.

He threw his hand through the water, gathering up a wave, before she caught him by the wrist, meeting his gaze again.

For a moment he was frozen by her intense green stare.

Then, from her other hand, he caught the biggest wave of all — straight in the eyes.

“Better luck next time,” she taunted, then, to her small allies, “ _¡Ganamos!”_

The little girls cheered while the little boys grumbled to themselves.

Dick, for his part, just wiped saltwater out of his eyes and smiled ruefully, contemplating the races across rooftops they’d had in their youth, how they’d been training and sparring together for over a decade, and how best to win next time. He would have many more opportunities to do so.

 

* * *

 

Every day now, Barbara was happy for the two of them to wander through town. After all, they were hardly short of friendly faces in Puerto Viejo.

Gloria and her cluster of wetsuit-clad surfer friends waved at them from where they were crowded around a small stand, drinking pineapple juice. Elena beamed from behind her array of rainbow-hued fruit, as did several of her customers. But the most personal welcome was reserved for the Santiago siblings.

“If it isn’t America’s okayest man,” Enrique teased, coming out of the front of the flower shop and wrapping Dick in a one-armed hug. Dick returned it with enthusiasm. “Loud shirt aside, you look good.”

“Same to you,” Dick said warmly, bracing his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “Being a free man seems to be treating you well.”

“That tends to treat a guy well.”

Camila leaned against the doorframe, her mouth quirked up in a half-smile. Both of them were in aprons, but her sundress was a soft dawn pink, while her brother was clad in his work jeans and a green Henley. Pulling up the brim of her hat, Barbara met the other woman’s gaze, smiling.

“I think America’s okayest are just fine, Enrique,” Camila remarked. “Actually, that reminds me...”

She disappeared into the store, then reappeared with a cluster of stunning red blossoms.

Barbara felt her eyes grow wide.

“Are those for us?”

“Yeah, forty percent off.” Camila cocked her head. “What? Did you expect us to give these away for free? _Mierda,_ that’s a terrible way to run a business.”

She laughed and handed over some money, accepting the flowers. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she watched the two men talking together, shoulders relaxed and eyes crinkled. She caught a few words about Enrique’s plans to expand the business, and about their joined family and their home back in Gotham.

“Been getting increased business from those other rich Americans — the asshole ones, not the ones you like — over the last couple days,” Camila remarked after a while. “I think even they might feel a bit guilty about thinking we’re all criminals.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Barbara said lightly.

“I do need their money to stay afloat, but otherwise, yeah.” The other woman sauntered down and joined her at her side. “They been giving you a hard time?”

“Actually, most of them have been avoiding us. The ‘ones I like’ are still being friendly, but the others are just staying away.”

She thought of how the last couple days had passed. People had shied away from her. Conversations had ground to a halt as she’d rolled past. Whispers only started up again when they thought she was out of earshot. Either they were afraid of her boldness, or they were just so disgusted they didn’t think it was worth it to insult her to her face.

Either way, instead of feeling ostracized, she felt peaceful.

“Sounds like a good thing to me.”

“It is.”

She and Camila exchanged a grin, almost like they were sharing a secret, just before she rolled up to the two men.

“Enrique?”

_“¿Sí?”_

“Mind if I steal my husband back?” It felt so good to say it out loud. “I do kind of need him.”

Enrique chuckled a bit, clasping Dick by the hand one last time.

“I would hate to break up the dream team. But honestly. You’re too good for each other to keep apart for long.”

“You know it.”

They waved to the Santiagos one last time, then Dick rested his hand over her shoulder as they moved onwards through the town. The red flowers in her lap fluttered slightly in the breeze, valentine-red in the summer sun.

 

* * *

 

 Snuggled up in a hammock, pleasantly cool underneath the shade of the Manor grounds’ towering oak trees, Cass snuggled up to her sleeping girlfriend. She wasn’t usually one for lazing around, but for once, everything was still. Dandelions poked up boldly through the otherwise manicured grounds, the leaves made soft _shhh_ sounds when a breeze rustled through them, and in the distance, she could see Ace and Titus darting and playing across the grass.

Her head resting on Stephanie’s chest, she listened to the rhythmic thumping of the other girl’s heart and shut her eyes.

“Cassandra!”

She lifted her head.

Damian approached from across the grass, wielding the latest edition of Bruce’s newspaper. In a sling around his chest was John, in tiny shorts and a tiny Batgirl t-shirt, curled up against his uncle.

She immediately read the urgency, and the surprise and slight incredulity, in his body.

“Vicki...wrote about us?”

“No, she balked at the last moment, it seems. We certainly did scare her off, especially that blond menace you’re curled around there.” Damian sounded pleased, almost proud, about that. “But here, read this.” He shook the paper out and held it out to her.

She looked at him.

“Ah, yes, right.” He turned it around and read aloud instead: _“Lex Luthor Denounced By LexCorp CEO Talia Head.”_

Cass sat up straight.

 _“Miss Head, who has worked for Mr. Luthor for nearly four years, has just publicly accused him of numerous crimes, including war profiteering, collusion with American enemies, attempted murder, second-degree manslaughter, treason, violation of environmental laws..._ it goes on for a bit here... _‘I can no longer stay silent,’ Miss Head decreed in today’s press conference, ‘and I don’t make these accusations lightly, as I have a multitude of electronic and material evidence to back up Mr. Luthor’s terrible crimes.’ Mr. Luthor, who served as president before he was impeached in 2014, has so far declined comment.”_ Damian made eye contact with his sister. “Mother never does pull her punches with her enemies.”

There was something almost wistful in his tone, love and regret in his posture. Cass tilted her head as she looked at him.

“You...did the right thing,” she told him. “We both did.”

“Cassandra, the man who sired you and the woman who gave birth to you may have some affection or admiration for you, but neither of them have any morals or compassion, and he has no semblance of propriety or honor.”

Cass wasn’t offended or upset. It was true.

“My mother is not irredeemable, I don’t think. She has love and compassion in her heart, I know it. There we are different.” He glanced down at the baby, who gazed back at him adoringly. “And yet, you are right. We did both do the right thing.”

“You regret.”

“I regret having to oppose my own mother.”

“But neither of us...regret the choice we made.”

Damian pushed back a lock of John’s hair with unusual carefulness.

“Most certainly not.”

She looked at the baby too, and wondered if the love that now took over Damian’s posture meant that he was thinking what she was thinking: one of the people who had given John life, had taught one of them how to live.

 _“_ Ah _,_ that reminds me.”Damian lifted the newspaper again and flipped through _to_ the society pages _. “_ Listen to this _,_ if you can believe it _: Recently, Richard Grayson, adopted son of Gotham’s own billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne, has been revealed to be married to Barbara Gordon, the daughter of the city’s police commissioner James Gordon, by the woman in question herself.”_

Cass burst out laughing in surprise and delight.

 _“She has also confirmed that she gave birth in secret to their first child in April..._ That woman, I swear to god.” Damian rolled his eyes. “And of course, Grayson just confirmed it, the lovestruck fool.”

“Good for them.” Cass smiled, thinking of the two of them, and the effect them being open about their relationship would have.

“Yes, it undoubtedly is making a lot of people angry.” Damian smiled too at the thought. “I hope Richard is happy, enjoying his time with her, and enjoying sticking it to them.” He pointed at Cass. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I am silent. Remember?” Cass mimed zipping her lips.

Satisfaction radiating from him, Damian sat down with his back to one of the trees, drawing out a rattle and playing with the baby. Cass lay back down, going back to listening to the peaceful sounds around her, this time joined by John’s delighted noises. She savored her brother’s and nephew’s presences, and savored the warmth and happiness of the girl next to her.

She stroked back Stephanie’s hair and kissed her cheek. Steph mumbled quietly in her sleep.

“Don’t worry, Damian. I am sure...they are happy. Especially Dick.”

 

* * *

 

 Dick tugged lightly against the knots securing his wrists to the backboard. As he expected, they held firm.

“Don’t bother. You know as well as I do that no one can compete with a Bat’s restraints.”

Despite the fact that he was stark naked and tied down, Dick still managed a grin.

“You also know as well as I do that no one can get out of restraints like a Bat.”

Half-reclining across the edge of the bed, Barbara tossed back her head.

“Again, don’t bother. And anyway...you’re not going to want to.”

His anticipatory grin only grew.

“First of all, I know you like being tied up. Second of all, I know everything else you like, too.”

“Hmm. Maybe you do know everything.”

“You know I do.”

She lifted herself up, her muscles bunching and gathering, her hair falling loose over her shoulders and chest. She wore only a blue lace bra, oddly similar in shade to the blue of his Nightwing suit, the pink of her nipples brazenly visible through the thin fabric. At the same time, nothing covered the thatch of auburn hair between her legs.

He leveled his gaze at her, his eyelids hooding, licking his lips. He was already half-hard just from being tied up; looking at her, more blood rushed to his groin. Almost unconsciously, he spread his legs, bending his knees and completely exposing himself.

Barbara grinned hungrily, inclining her head in a few slow nods.

“Maybe I will. If you’re good.”

Dick nodded in return.

She moved slowly up the bed, not taking her eyes off him. He could feel the heat from her skin as she climbed up over him, and his throat felt very dry and his head felt very light —

— especially as she braced her hands on the backboard and her thighs naturally fell open on either side of his face.

On reflex, he tugged uselessly, wanting to grab her hips and pull her right onto him. Above him, she chuckled softly.

“Aww, you like what you see that much? Well, you might as well have this chance to prove yourself.”

Without further ado, she sat on his face, her body shifting slightly. He wasted no time, eagerly starting to lap at her pussy, feeling her slickness begin to seep against his chin. She moaned above him, one hand suddenly clutching his hair, pulling it just the way he loved.

He drew his tongue in strong, quick strokes along her swollen lips, relishing her taste, licking up mouthfuls of her arousal while she gasped and sighed above him.

“Good boy,” she crooned, and he glowed, his chest warming. “You’re so good for me.”

Dick hummed, and then without warning, began to lap at her clit, eagerly drawing his tongue against it, alternately sucking against so that she cried out in delight.

Her orgasm came fast, bursting into his mouth; he diligently lapped up every drop. She panted as she came back down, slipping down from his face to his chest. He felt her pussy, even slicker from his efforts, against his bare, exposed skin, and he couldn’t help but offer her a messy, wet grin.

Barbara, her face and chest pink, lifted her chin and smiled slowly down at him.

“Very good boy.”

Her hands found his chest as she slid further down, her nails gliding along his skin. He shivered; he was fully hard now, flushed red and smearing precum along his stomach, all but aching for her.

She straddled his hips, then he gasped out loud as her pussy lips made contact with the underside of his cock. She smirked at him, her hands braced on his abdomen, pushing slightly so that she glided along over his erection, back and forth.

“Oh...oh god, fuck...” he gasped as she rubbed against him; she was so wet. He pulled at his restraints again, chest heaving.

Barbara flexed her arms hard, rubbing against his sensitive tip so that he whined.

“Should I just keep doing this?” she inquired, slightly breathless. “Or do you want to fuck?”

“Please...”

“Please what?”

“Please, I want to fuck!” It burst out; he was moving helplessly, completely at her mercy. “ _Please!_ ”

The black in her eyes had almost completely swallowed up the green.

“Lucky for you you look good when you’re begging. Lie still.”

He all but held his breath as she lowered herself onto him. Then her strong hands were clutching him again, and she was riding him hard. He gasped and thrust up into her warm wet cunt, matching her pace.

Her hair rippled as she tossed her head back, smiling broadly.

“Told you I know what you like...and you love this, don’t you?”

“Yes...”

She felt so perfect around him. She just always felt so perfect.

“Being tied up, being told what to do — being mine, being good for me.”

“Always.”

Heat built in his core, he shook slightly even as he kept up his pace. She was almost impossibly slick, still gazing down at him.

“Are you close?”

“Yes, I, yes —”

She retracted one hand and spanked his ass _hard._ He threw his head back and keened.

“Beg some more. Beg me to let you come.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Please! Please, god, please!”

“That’s my boy,” she said softly, and that was it.

He cried out as he came inside her, filling her up, as she simultaneously reached her peak, groaning and gasping.

For a few moments, they were still.

Then Barbara carefully pulled herself off and clambered back up, taking a set of scissors out of the nightstand and cutting his ties. Dick sighed, all but collapsing into the bed.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Her voice was gentle, and when he looked up at her, her expression had become soft. “Tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he promised her.

Nonetheless, she bent and kissed his forehead, stroking back his hair. His chest filled with warmth for her; he tilted his head up so that she kissed his lips instead.

“I’m going to run a bath,” she said after a moment, unclipping her bra and tossing it off somewhere. “If that’s what you’d like.”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

She gave him one more kiss, before clambering off the bed and rolling to the bathroom. For a few minutes, he just lay there in a daze, listening to the sound of rushing water and savoring the last of his high. Then he got to his feet, his knees still a little weak, and followed her.

The tub was already full and smelled of orange blossom, Barbara bending over the side and testing the water with her hand. The plate of food she’d ordered from room service before they’d started playing rested on the side: fruit and water and tiny slices of bread with cheese.

Dick quickly got in, groaning with delight as the warm scented water relaxed his muscles even further. It took Barbara a second, but she managed to get in after him, snuggling in beside him and slowly offering him bits from the food platter.

The window was open, and the outside breeze smelled of the sea, mingling with the orange blossom.

For some minutes, they were quiet, just leaning into each other under the water. When the food was gone, she kept one hand on his shoulder, gently stroking back and forth over his skin. He was touched that she still went to all the trouble for him, even though it was hardly the first time, even though she was more than familiar with his limits.

His thoughts drifted further down the line of their past together.

“Do you remember when I was still in high school, and I would come over to your house so we could study together?” he said at last. “It had to be your house, because your dad worked late, and Bruce and Alfred were always looking over our shoulders —”

“— And we didn’t really study, we played those old video games with their shitty graphics and watched movies on my VHS player,” she finished. He glanced over and saw her smiling. “And I would get you, and your friends too when they were in Gotham, into R-rated films, and Roy and Wally would tease you about the perks of being with older women.”

“Well, they weren’t wrong.” He shifted a bit. “And in all the years you were Batgirl, we ditched patrol together exactly twice, and the second time, even though we didn’t tell anyone, Bruce still found out and grounded me for two weeks. Even though it was your idea.”

“It was not!”

“Yes it was!” He splashed her a little bit. “You’re what turned me into the rebel kid.”

She splashed him back.

“It wasn’t my influence what got you to run away from him while on a mission and do everything he told you not to. Or all the times you did it after that.”

“Like you never did the exact same thing.”

“No regrets.” Barbara leaned her head on his shoulder. “Remember that April Fool’s Day when I convinced you that library late fees were up to ten dollars a day?”

“Remember when you joked to Penguin’s face about the Freudian implications of his umbrella?”

“Remember when we both double-parked our R-cycle and Bat-cycle and my dad lectured us about traffic laws?”

“Remember when Bruce got toasted at Clark’s bachelor party and gave us the worst sex talk ever in the history of sex talks?”

“Like either of us needed it at that point,” she smirked. He laughed.

“God, wow.” He drew a hand through his hair and looked at her again. “Has it really been twelve years?”

“Just about, Former Boy Wonder.”

“God...” He dropped his head so that their foreheads touched, eyes only inches apart. “Even before we were married, too. I really am the luckiest son of a bitch.”

She didn’t hesitate.

“If you’re lucky — then I’m just as much, at the very least.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel worthy to be with her. But he loved her, he was willing to wait and work for his love for her. More than that, she had chosen to go back to him, to be with him. If he couldn’t trust her judgment, he couldn’t trust anyone.

“I should’ve guessed. You’ve never been a woman to suffer fools. Marrying one of your best friends...that’s not settling to you, is it? To you, that’s an impossible dream come true.”

“There’s the level of detective work I expect from you, Grayson,” she whispered, before she moved in to kiss him again.

Water sloshed over the side of the tub.

 

* * *

 

Jason didn’t typically go grocery shopping with geeky teenage boys.

Yet there he was, sandwiched in between Tim and Duke, just trying to read his GED study guide in peace while they nattered on about a Spider-Man movie, of all things.

“I agree with you, the ‘nephew’ name drop meant something. I think...they were trying to set up for Miles Morales coming on the scene in the future,” Tim was saying as he absently grabbed organic fruit — without checking the prices. It was still astounding.

“I hope you’re right, but on the other hand, it’s hard to have Miles without like Sam Alexander and Kamala Khan and such, and do you really think Marvel would be brave enough to put Kamala Khan in a big-budget movie?”

“Oh, I doubt it, but I want them to anyway. Kamala’s the best.”

“I don’t understand a word either of you are saying,” Jason said loudly as he scanned and memorized the circumstances of Harper’s Ferry. “And thank god for that, because I do not want to be able to understand nerd-speak.”

“You’re literally wearing a t-shirt with Virginia Woolf on it.”

“It’s laundry day, and more importantly, her writing was iconic. Now shut up, I’m trying to study.”

Tim looked slightly pained, while Duke looked amused and endeared. The rest of Alfred’s grocery list was collected at a much lower volume, and all three of them snagged chocolates at the checkout, before staggering out of the store laden with enough food for a week (or, knowing their family, probably more like three days).

It wasn’t until after they had almost made it to Bruce’s Lamborghini that the camera flashed off in their faces.

“What the fuck —”

Jason blinked spots out of his eyes, only to be confronted by a trio of paparazzi. Beside him, Tim donned a coldly professional expression, while Duke jumped, startled. Both of them shifted into defensive stances.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne, Mr. Thomas, do you have a comment about —”

Jason snatched the camera from the middle paparazzo’s hands and smashed it on the pavement. All three of them started wailing in protest while the two boys stared at him in surprise.

“I have _several_ comments for you people, and they all have four letters,” Jason snapped, standing in between the paparazzi and his brothers. All of them appeared blindsided.

“Who even are you?”

“I’m Whitney Houston, the bodyguard. Now fuck off.”

“We’re going to have to reintroduce you to the world at some point, you know,” Duke pointed out as Jason clambered into the driver’s seat and the reporters scattered in the distance. “Returned from the dead, and all that.”

“Maybe. We can say I faked my death when I was fifteen to pursue my lifelong dream of playing bongos in a folk band or some shit...but in the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy fucking with people.” Jason twisted the key in the ignition. “And making sure the vultures don’t nab you kids.”

“Thanks for that, Jay.”

The words themselves were as much of a surprise as that they were from Tim. He craned his neck around to make sure that had actually happened and nearly crashed into a minivan.

“Really. Thanks.” Tim paused. “Whitney Houston.”

“Yeah, maybe I should’ve said I was Ryan Reynolds.”

“No man, you’re Whitney for life now,” Duke laughed.

“Mass murderers get to be Whitney,” Tim said, his grin flashing in the rearview mirror. “And then I can forgive you for the shooting.”

Without looking back again, Jason raised his right hand and flipped them both off.

“ _So_ glad to hear it, kid,” he drawled. Smirking faintly to himself, he then pulled out of the parking lot while the younger boys laughed and chatted in the backseat, finally relaxed again. Despite himself, Jason relaxed too, especially when his phone lit up with a text from Roy.

_got Lian from school. see u in 1 hour babe._

Jason’s smirk became a genuine smile. He glanced back at his brothers one more time, then turned on the radio as he drove onto the highway.

Under the summer sun, the music played.

 

* * *

 

Barbara leaned back into her seat, sipping her coffee as she immersed herself in her book. The hotel restaurant was mildly busy, a small handful of patrons having early lunch and talking amongst themselves. One of them glanced over her way, and his eyes narrowed in recognition.

“It’s her,” he muttered to one of his compatriots. “The reason we got uninvited from the biggest social events in all of Gotham City.”

“I don’t enjoy calling someone a bitch,” one woman said with fake tact, “but if anyone deserved it...”

“Whoring around, getting herself pregnant.”

“Acting all smart, all high and mighty.”

“Who does she think she is? It’s not like she’s anyone.”

Barbara calmly finished her coffee, her pulse and breathing steady. She checked the time on her phone, then marked her place in her book.

_Who am I? I’m me. I’m Oracle._

“You ready?” came a voice from behind her, right on time.

Barbara turned and faced Dick, freshly showered and changed from his workout, then brought him down for a very visible kiss.

_And I’m in love._

“Ready.” She swiftly paid her bill, then left at his side.

Judgmental stares attempted to drill into her back as they headed across the lobby to the elevators, as he rested his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t look back or falter all the way up to the Sunset Lounge; threw open the door without any weight in her heart.

“Hey, look who finally showed up!”

Eating and day-drinking were the small collection of guests who had taken a shine to them. Who had also, despite great protest from their contemporaries, invited them over for brunch.

Several Costa Ricans sat with them, talking about their businesses with the Americans like equals.

Dick immediately went to greet everyone with genuine excitement, and they responded in turn. Barbara sat without fanfare among the other women, watching them make space for her with friendly smiles.

One of the Costa Ricans, one of the businessmen who’d been arrested, cleared his throat and got to his feet.

“Ah, now that everyone is here, before we really begin our meal, I have two things to say: firstly, on behalf of my town, we accept the apology from these Americans, the apology for believing Luthor’s lies.”

The Americans nodded. Kim blushed in retrospective embarrassment.

“Secondly, we thank our special guests, this couple here, for all their efforts to help us. We of Puerto Viejo are indebted to you two.”

The Costa Ricans burst into enthusiastic applause, and the hotel guests followed suit. Dick beamed quietly; Barbara ducked her head, hiding her smile behind her hand.

The businessman lifted his glass.

“ _Pura vida_.” Everyone echoed him. “Now! Let’s eat.”

“Hear hear,” Eloise agreed seriously, getting to her feet as everyone headed towards the food.

“I do wonder just how ye two managed to help them out,” Evie murmured to Barbara while they queued up for more coffee. “It’s not very clear how ye did it.”

“So...are you going to ask me about that?”

“Nah. You’re an interesting woman, but I was actually thinking of asking ye more about your family.”

Barbara’s smile grew. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Dick surrounded by other people, all of them laughing and clearly enjoying themselves.

“First, let me ask you about yours.”

“Alright. Me mam grew up in Addis Ababa, and me dad grew up in Cork. They met in Dublin while mam was on vacation, the summer when the JSA came to Ireland to fight deadly robots from the future...”

 

* * *

 

 Evening had fallen, and the top of the sky was lit up deep blue, streaked orange and gold with the sunset. The palm trees appeared almost black, their fronds seeming to caress the cooling air. A sidewalk band plucked out a slow tune on their guitars while their female drummer idled, sipping a beer.

Barbara had ducked into a local bakery a few minutes ago; in the meantime, Dick perused the souvenir stalls, trying to decide what each of his siblings and each of his friends would like.

“You have a younger sister _, sí?_ ” the man behind the stall said encouragingly. “Maybe she would like some lipstick?”

“Maybe not,” Dick replied, stifling a laugh. “But she _would_ like those ribbons for her ballet shoes.”

He was just handing over the money when the slow song came to an end. The drummer perked up, setting down her beer and picking up her instrument.

She beat out a fast tempo. The guitarists began to strum in time; pedestrians gathered around them and began to clap.

Dick made his way over, swaying a bit to the music. Several women danced a little tentatively while their friends clapped encouragingly; one or two of them took their boyfriends and husbands by the hand so that they danced together.

The music kept up the pace; more people began to move to it.

Just then, Barbara reemerged from the bakery, a _torta chilena_ balanced on her lap. Looking at her as she wheeled over, Dick had a sudden inspiration.

He leaned over and plucked the cake off her lap, handing it off to a random man with just _“Puedes aguantar esto, por favor?”_

“Dick, what are you —?”

“Dance with me.”

She glanced around at all the people surrounding them, several of whom were now watching her curiously, then down at herself.

He waited for a moment.

“I —” She looked up again, then took a deep breath. “Screw it.”

He grinned enormously, then lifted her by her outstretched arms. She braced one hand on his shoulder, holding one of his with her other, while he held her around the waist with his unoccupied arm.

Then he spun and stepped to the beat, whirling her around so that her hair fanned out like wings —

— she threw her head back and beamed while he danced; he grinned wider, shifting his hips in time.

People’s hands clapped again, again; one woman brushed past them, clearly just as lost in the music.

Dick spun her around for several seconds while she laughed delightedly, then dipped her almost all the way to the ground.

“Having fun?”

“With this?” Her eyes sparkled. “What do you think?”

He pulled her all the way back up and they kept on dancing.

 

* * *

 

She’d been lounging on the couch for some time, catching up on a show she’d fallen behind on since having her baby. Dick had left her to it, but the sound of water running in the shower started only just as the season finale came to an end.

Barbara sighed a bit, reaching over to put on a different show...but something held her back.

For a few seconds, she just listened to the sound of the gushing water, studying the delicate crimson veins in the petals of the Santiagos’ flowers.

Then she clambered off the couch and back into her chair, shucking off her bathrobe and rolling over to the bathroom.

The glass walls of the massive showers were completely clear, unlike the opaque ones in her own home; she could see him perfectly as he sat on the ledge, streams of thick white suds running down the flat planes of his body.

Barbara licked her lips, pushing her hair off her shoulders and down her back. The sudden movement apparently caught his attention, because that was when he glanced up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Have I told you today how much I like the new look?” he remarked.

“What? Naked or post-baby?”

“Both. I bet it’s gonna be all the rage this fashion season.”

She rolled her eyes fondly as he got off the ledge, helping her in and onto it instead.

“You know, since you liked Agatha Christie, you can have _The Secret History_ when I’m done with it.”

“I _will_ need something to read when we go back to the beach tomorrow.”

Barbara’s eyes did not meet his as he spoke, still focusing instead on the water rolling down his abs.

“Yeah...literature _is_ the priority in our household.”

“Is it?”

Her head snapped up and she looked him in the face. His eyebrows were still crooked, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “In the meantime...would you mind sitting down?”

The corner twitched up further as he lowered himself to the porcelain, a couple feet of space in between him and the tiled walls. Barbara slipped down beside him, then wiggled herself into that space.

“We gonna play Twister?”

“We’re gonna play something,” she returned, her hand slipping slowly, teasingly, up his muscular thigh. He gasped slightly, his body tightening against hers.

Barbara grinned, her hand then sliding along his taut lower belly, taking a moment to trace her thumb over his navel before she took his already half-hard length in hand. One finger rubbed over the tip, smearing it with precum; he gasped again.

“Babs...”

“You wanna say something, Hunk Wonder?”

“Mmm...I like this game.”

“Yeah, you do,” she breathed in his ear.

Her hand slid up and down, slowly at first, then speeding up. She teased her finger along the big vein on the underside, then gripped him again and twisted her wrist so that he whined excitedly.

The cool water gushed down over them, a sharp contrast to how hot his skin was against hers. She nipped his earlobe; he bucked his hips into her touch.

“Poor baby,” she teased lightly as she stroked him, “Too much for you?”

“Nah,” he breathed, “Don’t worry. You’ve got it in hand.”

She rolled her eyes again while he chuckled at his own joke, then playfully swatted the side of his ass. He was fully hard and leaking pre all over her fingers, yet still turning his head to face her, smiling almost cheekily.

Barbara tried not to smile back, but it was difficult. Instead, while she stroked his cock, her other hand began playing with the head, teasing and rubbing in time with the first.

“Mmm...” Dick sighed. “Babs — ngh —”

“Yeah. I gotcha.”

It was some minutes later before he finally groaned low in his throat and came all over her fingers, hot and sticky and trickling down with the water into the drain.

He turned within her arms and faced her, still smiling a little before he began kissing her, pulling her close and holding her her around the shoulders as he did. Their kisses were almost sporadic; he pulled away at the last second, then she caught him back and nipped at his lip. He hummed almost cheerfully.

As Barbara rocked against him, she noticed that he slid his leg between hers; as they made out she ground against him, sparking little shocks of pleasure through her lower belly.

She groaned slightly, then pulled away to fumble upwards for the control knob, switching off the cooling water. For a moment, they just faced each other, panting, still wet and aroused.

Then Dick clambered partly to his feet, scooping her up; they practically tumbled out of the shower and rolled to a halt against the tiled floor. He pressed multiple kisses to her neck and collarbone; she whined and twisted her fingers in his hair.

“Getting a little eager there, sweetheart,” she said lightly, a little breathless.

“Should I not be?” he replied just as lightly, cupping and rolling her breast with one hand and gripping her hip with the other.

“Mmm...Dick...”

She patted his shoulder blade, but he was undistracted, the hand on her hip moving to her thighs.

“Dick... _Dick!_ ”

This time, the pat was a swat. He pulled away, looking bemused and concerned.

“Do you not want —”

“I do, but...not on the bathroom floor.”

He was only taken aback for a moment. Then he scooped her up again with one hand and grabbed a pair of fresh towels with the other, carrying her out of the bathroom and out towards the living room —

— neatly flipping out the towels over the couch she’d just been watching TV on, then setting her down upright. Barbara quickly grabbed the towel-clad back of the couch with both hands while he lifted her legs and hooked them over his elbows, gripping her thighs.

“So, we can file the couch away with the bed, the shower, the bath, the carpet, the kitchen island, and that armchair now,” she quipped.

“Well, not now —”

He sharply pushed into her and she gasped. She had been wet and sensitive since they’d started making out, and the suddenness of being filled was almost too much.

“— but _now_.”

“Clever,” she breathed.

“I like to think so.”

He almost immediately began to thrust into her at a quick, eager pace. She clutched the fabric tighter and smiled even as she panted; the swiftness of his thrusts sending more hot waves of pleasure through her, rapidly bringing her towards the edge.

It wasn’t until she was gasping and moaning as she came, warm with bliss, that he sighed and thrust twice more, spilling his seed inside her and warming her further.

Dick was careful when he pulled out, gently setting her legs back down.

“Well, that was a nice surprise,” he said at last.

“Glad you liked it, handsome. Though I don’t know why you’re not used to it yet.” She sprawled out lazily along the couch.

“Me neither. Although the shower was a bit of a moot point now.”

He clambered up and snuggled in next to her, letting her wrap her arms around him. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and breathed him in.

“That being said...I think it was worth it.”

“Good to hear.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce knew that his backyard pool had gone a bit neglected in recent years. Which was why it was so startling to see it full.

He sat at poolside and dangled his feet in the water, silently watching the chaotic scene. Behind him, Alfred had rolled up his sleeves, and was being very un-British and manning the grill, so that the appetizing scents of hot dogs and burgers (veggie burgers for Damian) curled through the air. Selina, looking frankly stunning in a black bikini and black cat’s-eye sunglasses, lounged in a deck chair and soaked up the early July sun. Dinah, on the chair next to her, was doing the same thing, but keeping an eye on the kids as she did. On the other side, carefully resting at the edge, was his grandson in his carrier, staring wide-eyed and delighted at everyone in the water.

Roy and Jason were having a furious water fight against Steph and Cass, which the men were losing spectacularly. Lian was pretending to be a shark, which involved a lot of ducking under the water and grabbing unsuspecting people’s legs. Duke was lying on a flamingo floatie, and Tim was lying on a swan floatie, his normally pale skin looking more than a little red. Meanwhile, Damian was trying and failing to practice the backstroke in the crowded water, which he looked very put out about.

“Father,” he piped up after a few minutes, “come join us. Your presence can keep these morons away from where I’m practicing.”

“Yeah Bruce,” Jason agreed, “you’ve even already got your Bat-trunks on.”

The very next second his sister splashed water in his eyes to a slew of curses. John giggled.

“Hmm.”

“C’mon B,” Steph wheedled, which quickly turned into a shriek as Lian grabbed her.

“Ha, Brown screams like a girl,” Damian jeered, which earned him a wave in the eyes too. The four-way water fight quickly devolved into a five-way free-for-all from there, Duke and Tim yelling at them not to splash them, because they weren’t involved here.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes at the chaos.

Followed by him immediately slipping into the water, paddling over to his youngest’s side.

“I’ll defend you, Damian,” he said gravely, setting one son on his shoulders and blasting a wave right at another.

“Brings back memories,” Cass laughed as Jason coughed and spluttered from the sneak attack.

“Why are you attacking him?” Steph exclaimed. “He’s only doing what you won’t!”

“He just wants to be loved!”

“Shut up!” Jason yelled, and swiftly retaliated.

Safely out of the splash zone, John kept giggling at them as they kept up the free-for-all, while Alfred took a brief detour over to check on him.

Bruce could’ve been imagining it, but as he played, as they all swam together under an unusually forgiving sun, out of the corner of his eye he could’ve sworn he saw Alfred smile proudly.

 

* * *

 

It was nothing like a night at home, Dick thought as they walked back through Puerto Viejo. The night in Costa Rica was soft, the darkness gentle and welcoming. In lieu of a city’s lights, the clear moon and the stars in their millions offered just enough illumination to see by, and that was enough. Though there were several clubs open, reggaeton playing faintly through their closed doors, and a few lit windows, the night was also quieter than the day. He could hear the rhythmic shushing of the ocean in the distance, and as they walked under the palm trees, he could hear the breeze through the fronds, soft as a whisper.

“Told you it was worth it to wait for dusk to go to the jaguar rescue center.”

“Okay, I admit it, you did learn something from listening to Damian all the time,” Barbara laughed, holding up one hand. “Jaguars are nocturnal.”

“Technically he said that they’re crepuscular, but yeah. They fit right in with us.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder, savoring her presence. The stars reminded him of the big cats’ eyes, glowing amber in the dark. The cats themselves reminding him fondly of his family.

“You saw the mother with her cubs, yeah?” he added. “The one who snarled when that one guy got too close?”

She looked at him.

“That was you,” he teased, reaching out a finger and pushing her glasses up her nose. She caught him by the wrist, raising an eyebrow.

“And don’t you ever forget it, Grayson.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

He gently rubbed over her shoulder, glancing out towards the water.

For a few moments, they were both still and content, taking in the night. Nothing like home, but still familiar.

“I’m glad we came here, you know,” Barbara finally said.

“Evil plot and all, I agree.”

She reached up and rested her hand on his for a moment, just enough to stroke her fingers over his knuckles.

“There’s still some cake left in the room, if you want to have some.”

He took her hand off his and brought it up to his lips, before setting it back down on the pushrim.

“Is that even a question?”

He leaned slightly into her as they moved slowly back towards the hotel through the soft darkness, in no hurry at all.

 

* * *

 

 Barbara woke up fairly early, long before Dick did.

She’d left the window and the balcony door open the previous night, and another salt-scented ocean breeze was rolling through the bedroom, the curtains fluttering only a few feet away. The early morning light cast its beams along the floor and the artwork on the walls, washing everything in pale gold. She imagined how the ocean must be sparkling, how the tropical leaves must be the color of jade as they filtered through the light. If she strained her ears, she could’ve sworn she heard church bells echoing up from the town.

But mostly, she felt the fine white linen of the bed and the soft pillows, so easy to fall into.

Dick snuffled quietly in his sleep, and she rolled over to face him. His head was half-buried in his pillow, his hair sticking up in all directions. The sheets only covered him from the waist down, the sunlight making plain his lovely peaceful face and his musculature and every jagged scar on his skin, making plain his beauty.

Barbara moved closer and slotted herself against him, wrapping her arms around his back and holding him close. He was so warm; he accepted her touch so easily, nuzzling into her even as he slept.

She contemplated getting up to fix some breakfast, to continue her book, to see what was on the TV or the news. But the longer she lay there next to her husband, the less she wanted to leave.

She sighed and buried her face in his neck, shifting closer still, just laying there as the town woke up around them. Needing nothing more.

Barbara let her eyes flutter shut again, feeling warm, her heart unburdened. Everything was okay.

Everything was at peace.

 

* * *

 

It was a well-known fact that on the back patio of Wayne Manor, facing the massive green grounds, the soft grass and the aging trees, there was a rocking chair. It had belonged to Jonathan Kent, and Clark had given it to Bruce on his fortieth birthday without a trace of guile — it wasn’t until after he’d given it that he’d realized how that might be taken, especially considering that Bruce was getting on in years.

But despite all the giggling he’d endured from his teammates, Bruce kept the chair.

Stephanie had that in mind as she watched Dinah sitting in it, rocking back and forth with the baby in her arms. She meandered over with a glass of iced coffee in hand, peering down.

John had fallen asleep, curled up against his godmother, his tiny fingers and toes twitching at he dreamt. He was so small, even after growing for two months he still fit easily into Dinah’s grasp.

Steph pulled up another chair and sat down next to her idol, caressing her fingertips through the baby’s soft hair.

“I’m sorry you’re leaving this afternoon,” she blurted to Dinah.

“Me too. I’m gonna miss you kids.” She ran a hand affectionately over Steph’s hair. “Crime waits for no woman, huh?”

“And no personal hang-ups.”

“Story of my life.”

“Speaking of which, you got any more stories?”

They chatted about past misadventures as the sun rose higher over the greenery, until the rest of the family emerged from various places around the house to scout out food and coffee for themselves. Lian ran out to the patio and jumped up onto Steph’s lap, offering her own opinions on various happenings.

“And that’s how my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Vandal Savage almost got me,” she said dramatically as the others emerged, gathering around the table with all the trappings of brunch.

“I don’t even want to know,” Duke decided.

“You two...” Cass pointed at them, then at two empty seats framed by her brothers. “Join us.”

Bruce didn’t agree out loud, but Steph could’ve sworn that he made a gesturing motion behind his newspaper.

“Only if — is that bacon?”

Without hesitation, she darted over and wedged herself in next to Jason, helping herself to the food. Dinah sat on her other side, leaning across the table to talk to Roy, occasionally passing food to Tim on her left, everyone fitting in with ease around the huge table.

There was a slight noise behind her, and she turned to see Alfred, holding more coffee, cream, and sugar on a tray, surveying the patio.

“Good morning, Miss Stephanie.”

“Yeah, it is,” she beamed. “C’mon, Alfie. Put the tray down and pull up a chair.”

Alfred looked taken aback only for a moment before he regained his composure.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Stephanie.”

“Hey look, I’m not too sure about how all this butler stuff works,” Dinah spoke up, “but you’re as much family to these kids as anyone, so just sit with them, will ya?”

“Yes, if Drake and Todd count...” Damian agreed. Tim rolled his eyes and Jason lazily flipped their youngest brother off, with no real heat.

“And if I’m here —” Steph finished, “that should make everyone, shouldn’t it?”

Alfred sighed, as though there was no arguing with these people, but when he sat down in between Bruce and Cass, Steph knew she saw his mustache twitch upwards — as well as Bruce’s mouth turning into what was unmistakably a small smile.

She looked back into Dinah’s arms, at the baby curled up so contentedly. She registered the clinking of silverware and Damian’s reedy voice competing with Jason’s deep one and the savory smell of bacon interspersing with the sweet smell of syrup, and she registered the tiny peaceful snuffling in between Dinah’s slow breaths.

Stephanie reached out and let the small hand unconsciously wrap around her index finger, feeling the soft grip, the sun on her back, and a overarching sense of belonging that once upon a time would’ve been strange.

 

* * *

 

Dick zipped up the last suitcase, yanking up the handle and dragging it over to the door. As he half-listened to Barbara going over the list of essentials they needed to have notforgotten, he walked over to the glass coffee table and knelt, fingering the petals of the Santiagos’ flowers. They had just started to wilt, but were still lovely, richly red.

“— Dick? Dick, are you sure you got everything?”

He turned and faced his wife. Her hair was loose, and she was wearing a green sundress, bringing out her eyes.

“I’m sure,” he promised. Then: “It’s just a bit strange that this is already over.”

She rolled over to him; they were eye-level, and she took his hands.

“Two weeks may be over, but we’ve got a lot more in front of us, you know.”

“I know. A whole life.”

They made eye contact for a few more moments, and he marveled at the truth of it. A whole life...

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, still holding her hands.

“Let’s go home.”

The porter arrived just a minute later, smartly marching their bags to the elevator and then out to the rental. Dick and Barbara took their time, leaning into each other with his arm on her shoulders, making their way through the lobby for all the world to see them. At the front desk, Ana beamed at them as she took back their keys.

People turned away or whispered. Dick all but glided through the revolving doors, jumping into the driver’s seat while Barbara carefully lifted herself and her chair in. The top was down, and the tropical day was bright.

He caught a few different people waving through the glass doors, waving them off. He waved back.

Barbara turned on the radio, and he pulled the car out of the parking lot, gliding down the road towards town.

Soon, the gentle bustling of Puerto Viejo rose to greet their ears, as did quite a lot of people as he pulled through downtown. He slowed the car; it seemed that almost everyone was waving or calling out to the two of them.

_“¡Adiós!”_

_“¡Buena suerte!”_

_“¡Espero que haya más niños!”_

“Hope you two enjoy it, back in Gotham,” Enrique called up to them from the front of his shop, his sister at his side.

“I know I wouldn’t,” Camila agreed.

Barbara leaned over the side of the car.

“We’ll miss you all.”

“Us too,” Enrique agreed. “We really did like having you here.”

“Maybe next time you two visit you can pay off our mortgage.” Camila leaned up and actually squeezed Barbara’s hand. Enrique made eye contact with Dick and smiled.

 _“Buena suerte,”_ Dick told them, smiling back.

“You too, _americanos.”_

Barbara leaned on his shoulder as drove out of town, beginning the long drive to San José, the long route to home.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe next time we go on vacation we should go someplace a little quieter. And someplace where we both speak the language.”

“Egypt? Austria? Japan?”

“Sounds about right.”

They both slept the entire flight from San José to Gotham.

 

* * *

 

It was very early morning when they got back; still dark out. But even so, there was one more stop to make.

Barbara paid the taxi driver extra and told him to wait, then she and Dick headed up through the wrought-iron gates and to the oversized Manor door.

Alfred opened it before they even rang the doorbell, and immediately smiled.

“Just in time.”

Barbara gazed around as they headed through the foyer, even though she’d seen the interior countless times before. Dick ran up to walk at Alfred’s side, chatting happily about everything they’d seen and done in the last week.

“This sounds like something to tell the family,” Alfred said as Dick explained all the animal species they’d seen in the rescue center.

“I think he’d like to.”

“Good thing then that he will get his chance —”

They rounded the corner into the living room.

“— now.”

The two of them were immediately set upon by everyone who’d been waiting: the dogs, the cat, Bruce, Steph, and all five of Dick’s siblings, still in their suits from patrol, all talking at once, all clamoring to know everything. Damian and Steph and Cass had tanned, Tim was very sunburnt, Duke held the cat while he talked, Jason ruffled his older brother’s hair obnoxiously, and Barbara couldn’t make out a single word.

“ _One at a time,_ “ Bruce bellowed, and everyone fell silent.

Then Dick launched back into telling them everything about Costa Rica, and the kids piped up in turn, everything that had happened at home spilling out in between. It was nearly ten minutes before they were all done.

“So I take it...sex vacation was a success?” Cass inquired cheerfully.

“You could say that,” Barbara smirked, resting her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. Then she realized. “Where’s my son?”

A throat was cleared gruffly behind her, and she turned around to see Bruce, holding the carrier in one hand and cradling her baby in the other. The Batman himself, huge and broad and menacing, very carefully passed John to her, mindful of his head — and smiled ever so slightly when the baby started cooing with joy.

“Hi,” she said softly, cradling him, struggling to keep her voice under control, “Hi. Oh, oh yeah, I missed you too.”

“Let me see him!” Dick leaned over the back of her wheelchair, reaching down. John immediately grabbed his father’s finger, and Dick gasped, his breath shaking a bit.

The others all exchanged knowing looks.

“And I thought we missed you guys,” Duke remarked, “That little guy could not be happier.”

“No thanks to you lot,” Damian said loftily, handing all the baby things over to his oldest brother. “My skills are still unmatched.”

“Well, if we ever get the idea to duel you with babysitting, we’ll keep that in mind,” Tim retorted, ducking away from Damian’s attempt to poke him on his sunburn and hugging Dick. “Glad everything worked out.”

“Yes, that reminds me.” Bruce cleared his throat. “That was a rather...unorthodox way of announcing your relationship. You don’t have any regrets, do you?”

Barbara looked up at her father-in-law.

“None whatsoever.”

His lips twitched upwards again.

“Very well then. You three should probably head home.”

Cass embraced her one last time while Damian reminded Dick not to let the cab driver smoke. The whole family escorted them to the door again, their faces shining, and it filled Barbara’s heart with light.

While the driver packed the baby things into the already-stuffed cab, Barbara looked back one more time at the Manor. Seven superheroes and a butler — his family, _their_ family — were at the living room windows now, still waving.

Barbara’s smile only grew.

She was quiet on the ride back through Gotham, staring out the window at the familiar steel-and-concrete landscape, cast in blue pre-dawn shadows. Still quiet as they rolled into her neighborhood, as she disembarked with her child in her arms, peering up at her Clock Tower, like a lighthouse in the dark.

The cab driver disappeared quickly; they went up the elevator with their luggage, still in silence. Barbara opened the door to her living space, and set down John in his carrier, then their bags. She was only just about to head in herself —

— when she was suddenly scooped up and out of her chair, Dick carrying her in his arms. She broke her silence, laughing in open and unabashed delight. He beamed right back at her as he carried her over the threshold, into her home — _their_ home.

He pulled in the chair and set her down again, then it was his turn to gather up the bags and put them away. Barbara watched him do it for a few moments, before she rolled into the kitchen.

The very first rays of sun had begun to poke above the horizon as she brewed coffee. By the time she poured herself a cup, rolling out onto the balcony, the sky was growing light, the blue being pushed upwards by fingers of pink and gold. It was Gotham. It wasn’t anything like paradise. But she loved it nonetheless.

She sat there alone for about a minute.

“You know...even here, that’s quite a sight.”

Dick had walked out to join her, holding their baby. He sat down next to her, and they held hands, leaning into one another as the sky grew brighter. Barbara’s heart seemed to swell in her chest, and she squeezed his hand a bit.

They were quiet for a few minutes more, the only sound being the happy coos of their baby. The sky turning to silver, the sun warming her to her bones. The smells of city grit and fresh-brewed coffee on the air, her husband’s fingers interlocked with hers, millions of souls waking up and moving around beneath them.

“Well, Barbara.”

“Yeah?”

“Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, Puerto Viejo de Talamanca is a real town in Costa Rica, although I took the liberty of making up the Hotel Magnifico. I will try to depict it and Costa Rica in general as accurately as I can, and I’m open to corrections. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, here’s a list of what I imagine Barbara considers light vacation reading:
> 
> -The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood  
> -Five Little Pigs, Murder On The Orient Express, & Death On The Nile by Agatha Christie  
> -The Iliad & The Odyssey by Homer  
> -TransAtlantic by Colum McCann  
> -Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich  
> -Persuasion by Jane Austen  
> -The Secret History by Donna Tartt  
> -Strangers On A Train by Patricia Highsmith  
> -To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf  
> -The Red Tent by Anita Diamant


End file.
